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THE 

CAMP FIRE GIRLS 

AT 

HALF MOON LAKE 


BY 

MARGARET VANDERCOOK 

Author of “The Ranch Girls” Series, The Red 
Cross Girls” Series, etc. 


ILLUSTRATED 


PHILADELPHIA 

THE JOHN C. WINSTON CO. 

PUBLISHERS 



Copyright 1921, by 

The John C. Winston Company 


stories about camp fire girls 

List of Titles in the Order of their Publication 

The Camp Fire Girls at Sunrise Hill 

The Camp Fire Girls Amid the Snows 

The Camp Fire Girls in the Outside World 

The Camp Fire Girls Across the Sea 

The Camp Fire Girls’ Careers 

The Camp Fire Girls in After Years 

The Camp Fire Girls at the Edge of the Desert 

The Camp Fire Girls at the End of the Trail 

The Camp Fire Girls Behind the Lines 

The Camp Fire Girls on the Field of Honor 

The Camp Fire Girls in Glorious France 

The Camp Fire Girls in Merrie England 

The Camp Fire Girls at Half Moon Lake 


DtC 13 1921 


©CIA680777 


CONTENTS 


Chapter Page 

I. Indian Summer 7 

II. Half Moon Lake 19 

III. Old Friends 29 

IV. The Hermit 43 

V. A Conversation and a Loss 57 

VI. “A Man for a’ That” 72 

VII. Friendship 83 

VIII. Midwinter 92 

IX. The Poet’s Corner 107 

X. Holiday Guests 116 

XI. Juliet Temple 128 

XII. Friends That Were 142 

XIII. Anxious Waiting 154 

XIV. Christmas Eve 162 

XV. Romance 173 

XVI. An Encounter 195 

XVII. Closed In 204 

XVIII. Spring 212 


(5) 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

“I Am a Stranger in This Locality,” 


He Explained Frontispiece 

PAGE 

Foe a Moment the Man Staked in 
Silence 59 

Sally’s Hands Beat Against the 
Closed Door 160 

“I Wish You Would Help Me About 
Something/’ She Said 189 


( 6 ) 


Tlie Camp Fire Girls 
At Half Moon Lake 


CHAPTER I 
Indian Summer 

WO girls were following a narrow 
trail. 



About them the woods were scar- 
let and flame, golden and bronze, and in 
contrast the blue-green depth of tall pine 
and cedar trees. 

Down a steep hill the trail led; on either 
side a thick underbrush of wild grapevines 
and blackberries that twisted and sprawled, 
showing shriveled clumps of seed pods where 
formerly the fruit had ripened. 

One of the girls, wearing a corduroy cos- 
tume of hunter’s green and a tam-o-shanter 
of the same shade, was carrying a rifle, 
while over her shoulder hung a brace of 
rabbits and half a dozen quail. 


( 7 ) 


8 


AT HALF MOON LAKE 


Following close behind her the second 
girl’s costume was of the same character, 
a short skirt and coat with leather leggings 
and high boots, but of dark blue. 

“Do you think we are lost, Gill?” she 
inquired cheerfully. 

Her companion shook her head. 

“Well, as David Murray says, we are 
where we shouldn’t be and don’t know 
where we are, but I should never call that 
being lost, would you, Bettina?” 

Grasping a small birch tree firmly so as 
not to be obliged to continue her descent, 
and forcing Bettina to imitate her example, 
Gill turned halfway around. 

“To get down this hill and find our camp 
before dusk I suggest that we follow the 
fashion set by ‘The Waters at Lodore’. 
I am not sufficiently literary to recall the 
exact lines of the poem, I leave that to you, 
Princess, but there was something about 
their dashing, splashing and tumbling, some- 
thing quick and active, and in contrast to 
our methods for this past hour. Farewell, 
valor at present is the better part of dis- 
cretion, to transpose the axiom.” 

As she ceased speaking, releasing the 


INDIAN SUMMER 


slender young tree and bracing her feet 
together, Mary Gilchrist began to slide 
down the steep incline. 

In the heart of the Adirondack forest it 
was now early in the month of November 
and about four o’clock in the afternoon. 
Overhead the sun was still shining and the 
sky a warm blue, yet from the ground arose 
a light mist, playing in and out amid the 
underbrush and the bases of the trees, 
ethereal and evanescent, the floating dra- 
peries of unseen fairies holding an autumn 
carnival. 

Bettina Graham continued her downward 
progress more slowly and cautiously. 

Over the trail beech leaves and birch 
leaves and the long fingers of the pine had 
blown in little drifts of amber and green 
which, mixing with the decaying wood and 
wet earth, formed a slippery aisle. 

Ten minutes elapsed before Bettina re- 
joined her companion. She then discovered 
Mary Gilchrist seated upon an overturned 
log, her gun and game on the ground beside 
her, her hat in her lap, while she shook bits 
of brushwood, twigs and leaves from her 
hair and removed them from her apparel. 


10 AT HALF MOON LAKE 


The autumn sun shone through an arch 
of branches overhead on the red-brown of 
her hair, on her eyes so nearly the same 
color, on her healthy, lightly freckled skin, 
and her full, irregular lips. 

u Iam glad the turn in the trail concealed 
the latter part of my prowess as a moun- 
taineer, Bettina. I certainly came down 
swiftly enough toward the end. In fact, I 
had hard work holding on to my rifle,” 
Gill announced, shaking her head a second 
time so that a bronze leaf slid on to the 
earth. “But if I lost my dignity I did not 
lose my gun or game.” 

“You are not hurt, are you, Gill?” 
Bettina asked, looking with admiration and 
amusement at her companion. 

Then as she shook her head: 

“Do you know, Gill, it has been a curious 
fact in our Camp Fire life together, living 
as we have for the past few years in different 
places and under such a variety of con- 
ditions, to find here and there one of us 
discover the environment for which she 
must have been intended. Vera Lagerloff 
and Alice Ashton, for instance, were at 
their best when doing reconstruction work 


INDIAN SUMMER 


11 


in France. You, Gill, were very busy and 
useful over there, and yet no one has known 
the real you until these past few weeks in 
the mountains. Yet why should this be 
true when you lived all your past life in 
the western prairie country until your 
desire to drive a motor in France led you 
to join our Camp Fire and help with the 
relief work?” 

“I sometimes feel that I have not yet 
found my true environment. Do you 
remember the wonderful new play Tante 
read aloud the other evening, ‘ Beyond the 
Horizon’, whose theme is that each human 
being must live in harmony with his own 
nature, else he will never find happiness 
or success?” 

Mary Gilchrist smiled. 

“I remember it after a fashion, but, 
Bettina dear, please don’t ask me to under- 
stand literary subtleties. You know there 
is no one in the world who cares less than 
I for books, although to my shame I confess 
it, but I don’t believe I ever read or studied 
voluntarily save when I thought it my duty. 
Every interest with me is an outdoor interest 
and I confess I have never loved any place 


12 AT HALF MOON LAKE 


so well as these Adirondack forests. Some- 
where in my past I must have had an 
Indian ancestor, not a squaw, but a great 
chief who roamed these hills, hunting and 
fishing, sleeping and living outdoors when 
it was possible, because I feel at present 
as if I never wished to do anything else, 
except perhaps see my friends and family 
now and then. But enough of conver- 
sation, Bettina, woodsmen or woodswomen 
we have been told were a silent race and 
we must learn the law of the woods. What 
I really would like to know is in what 
direction we should travel to reach camp 
in the shortest length of time. We have 
been following a deer trail I believe that 
has led us nowhere. However, we cannot 
be many miles out of the way. We must 
move now toward the west, and, Bettina, 
let’s not separate again, you know you have 
no sense of direction once you are more 
than a mile away from camp.” 

Unable to dispute this assertion, Bettina 
Graham, who was beginning to grow tired 
while her companion appeared as fresh as 
when they set out, followed obediently 
beside her. 


INDIAN SUMMER 


13 


A half hour longer they walked, Gill 
rarely hesitating, although keeping her com- 
pass in her hand and glancing at it occasion- 
ally, when suddenly both girls stopped short. 

They were not alone in this portion of 
the woods. Not far off some one else was 
moving, finding the way slowly and un- 
certainly. 

Mary Gilchrist glanced at her rifle, which 
she carried with skill and assurance. 

“I cannot imagine who can be in the 
woods at so late an hour. I must try and 
find out.” 

Placing her fingers on her lips the girl 
uttered a shrill, clear call. 

Silence. 

A moment later she repeated the call. 

Then both girls heard a voice shouting 
in a tone of mingled terror and relief. 

“I have lost my path. Won’t some one 
come and find me? I can never manage 
to reach you.” 

The girls exchanged glances. 

“ A lost knight in the dark forest, Bcttina! 
Well, these are the days when women are 
the modern crusaders > so let us to the 
rescue!” 


14 AT HALF MOON LAKE 


Not many minutes after, the two girls 
came upon a young man of about twenty 
lying gracefully outstretched on the ground 
upon a fragrant bed of balsam, with an open 
book in his hands. 

As Bettina and Mary drew near he arose. 

“I was resting,” he explained, “knowing 
that you would have less difficulty in dis- 
covering me if I remained quiet in one 
spot.” 

His manner was so self-possessed and 
self-assured that Bettina smiled, observing, 
however, that Gill appeared annoyed. 

Small wonder! Their faces were flushed, 
their clothes covered with brambles from 
their search, while he showed no sign of 
discomfort. His hair, worn longer than 
was usual, was of a bright gold, his skin 
pallid and his cheeks slightly sunken, 
making his long, curiously shaped gray 
eyes more conspicuous. 

“Yes, one can see you have not disturbed 
yourself,” Gill returned. “Yet if you wish 
to be out of the woods before twilight, you 
had best make some effort. Fortunately 
I discovered the trail we were seeking while 
looking for you. Please follow me.” 


INDIAN SUMMER 


15 


She turned sharply and moved off, her 
figure vanishing between the trees, every 
inch of her body alert, vigorous, almost 
boyish, with her rifle and game over her 
shoulder. 

Nevertheless the newcomer glanced at 
her with an expression of disapproval, 
while his eyes sought Bettina for sympathy. 

“I am a stranger in this locality,” he 
explained. “I intend spending the winter 
at a cabin in one of the clearings. ‘Long, 
long is the autumn dream in these corridors 
of heaven ’,” he quoted. 

“Yes, I know,” Bettina answered; “still, 
I think it might be just as well not to dis- 
cuss the beauty surrounding us for a short 
time and follow our guide. You cannot 
depend on me and I am sure you appear 
to be an equally unreliable woodsman. 
Gill,” Bettina called, realizing that Gill 
was walking more rapidly than usual and 
that they might be forced to run rather 
than lose sight of her. 

Out of breath they both were when 
finally they caught up. A few yards farther 
on, the path broadened, leading between 
an avenue of sugar maples raining golden 
leaves. 


16 AT HALF MOON LAKE 


“You have been hunting,” the young 
man remarked in an effort to induce Mary 
Gilchrist to behave as if she were aware of 
his existence. 

The fact was too obvious to require an 
answer, notwithstanding Gill nodded. 

“Do you actually mean you have shot 
and killed those pretty little things your- 
self, those gentle, furry rabbits with their 
soft eyes and cotton tails and the quail one 
can hear calling to one another with their 
sWeet, throaty notes? The wild animals 
one might be willing to destroy, although 
I scarcely think that fair in their own 
haunts. Surely a portion of this world 
should be reserved to them as well! But 
even when one reconciles oneself to the 
idea of a man hunting, the thought of a 
woman or girl being willing to kill is beyond 
my conception.” 

Bettina saw the hot color flood GilTs 
cheeks, saw her bite her lips. 

“Well, you may now broaden your con- 
ceptions! I have been hunting since I was 
a little girl, was taught by my father a 
good many years ago. Do you know I 
have an idea, that were we to invite you 


INDIAN SUMMER 


17 


to have dinner with us to-night, no one 
would enjoy the game I have just killed 
more than you. There are so many people 
in this world who like to sentimentalize 
and leave the hard work to others, while 
they enjoy the results. You were quite 
willing to remain on your couch of balsam 
needles this afternoon while we scoured the 
woods in search of you. Your plan is an 
excellent one, so long as it is successful. 
Never do the difficult or disagreeable tasks; 
always find some one to do them for you.” 

Ordinarily gay and sweet tempered, Bet- 
tina glanced at the younger girl in surprise. 

If Gill were wounded by the stranger’s 
speech, her revenge had been swift and sure. 
Evidently her point had struck home, since, 
although he appeared angry, he made no 
reply. 

By this time they had reached a spot 
so near their camp that Bettina herself 
recognized the environment. 

A white birch tree stood alone in a small 
clearing, rising thirty feet in the air; on this 
autumn afternoon the foliage was still so 
dense that one could barely see the light 
between the thick branches. 


18 AT HALF MOON LAKE 


Their path led past this tree only a few 
yards away. 

The three of them paused. 

Issuing from between the leaves came the 
note of an animal, or bird, wild and plain- 
tive, yet unfamiliar. 

In an instant Mary Gilchrist loaded her 
rifle, lifted it and fired. 

The same instant Bettina gave a quick 
cry of warning. The next a small figure 
fell from the tree, limp and headlong as a 
wounded bird. 


CHAPTER II 


Half Moon Lake 

B ETTINA had the little figure stretched 
out with the head sloping downward 
and was opening her first aid kit 
with trembling fingers when the others 
reached her. 

Blood was staining the little girl’s Camp 
Fire dress and bright crimson sweater. 

“Get me some water at once, I don’t 
believe the wound is serious. You can trust 
me, I am studying surgery.” 

Bettina was gone for several moments. 
On her return she saw that the little 
victim’s eyes were open and that she was 
attempting to talk. The wound had proved 
only a flesh wound and the shot had not 
lodged in her arm, notwithstanding, their 
new acquaintance was making a careful 
investigation. 

A few feet away Mary Gilchrist stood, 
never having moved, or offered a word of 
apology, or of fear, or remorse. The face 
was an odd one, animated, filled with color 

( 19 ) 


20 AT HALF MOON LAKE 


and life; it was charming, yet once the color 
and animation departed, except for the fine 
eyes, the face was plain, the features were 
so irregular, the nose sky tipped, the lips 
too full, the chin revealing more character 
than beauty. Extremely pale, her expres- 
sion at present was more sullen than 
sorrowful. 

“Let me walk back to camp, I should 
like it better,” the little girl insisted, when 
Bettina and the stranger had volunteered 
to carry her. Her arm was bound and 
hung in an improvised sling. 

Not many yards further on the smoke 
of a camp fire could be seen in the late 
afternoon haze. 

The small procession walked three abreast 
with Mary Gilchrist a few steps behind. 

“We, too, plan to spend the winter in the 
Adirondacks, with our Camp Fire club, our 
guardian and a few relatives and friends,” 
Bettina explained. “We have a beautiful 
camp on Half Moon Lake, but you will soon 
see for yourself! The arrangement is a 
good deal of a surprise. After a summer 
in England* we intended to make a trip 

* See “Camp Fire Girls in Merrie England.” 


HALF MOON LAKE 


21 


through Ireland, but after a few weeks 
found the country so unsettled we decided 
to sail for home. Most of us were really 
very glad. I was, because I had discovered 
this little girl in Ireland by that time. 
Chitty I told you was a Lancashire girl, 
the daughter of a miner. She lived with 
us in England and then ran away with her 
father to Ireland, so we never expected to 
see her again. Her name is really Elce. 
Chitty is a queer, Lancashire word that 
means a tiny, black kitten and was a title 
the miners gave her, as their mascot. But 
the name does not suit; Chitty is a black- 
bird and has a magical voice.” 

Bettina Graham smiled down at the little 
girl of about twelve years of age, whose 
uninjured arm was slipped through hers. 

“We are now in sight of our camp. See, 
is it not lovely as I said? The Indians call 
this locality ‘ Place Where the Storm Clouds 
Met in Battle with the Great Serpent.’ 
We call our camp, ‘Tahawus,’ which means 
cloud.” 

The young man whistled softly. 

They were descending a low hill, sparsely 
covered with beeches, poplars and birch 


22 AT HALF MOON LAKE 


trees and a few evergreens, where but the 
thick growth evidently had been cleared 
away. The hill led down into a narrow 
valley, a broad stripe of shining ribbon. 
In the center lay a lake upon which a motor 
launch and several row boats were washing 
softly to and fro. Beyond Half Moon Lake 
rose an extraordinarily high mountain with 
files of spruce trees stationed like sentinels 
up and down. Over the mountain at this 
hour showed the first pale glimmer of a 
crescent moon. About an eighth of a mile 
from the lake stood a wide, low cabin built 
of logs with a generous veranda. Beside 
it were two smaller cabins of perhaps only 
two or three rooms, but connected with the 
large house by enclosed runways. 

In front of one of the smaller houses a 
camp fire was burning. Wreaths of smoke 
were curling out of the chimney of the 
central cabin, as in spite of the Indian 
summer days, the autumn nights were 
cold. 

Several girls in Camp Fire costumes were 1 
preparing the evening meal over the open 
fire, while three older women were walking 
slowly up and down at no great distance 
away. 


HALF MOON LAKE 


23 


“You will stay and have dinner with 
us?” Bettina said cordially. “We both 
are strangers to the life of the woods, yet 
hospitality is one of its first laws. By the 
way, I have not told you my name, nor 
have you told me yours. I am Bettina 
Graham, my father is Senator Graham of 
Washington. My friend is Mary Gilchrist. 
Gill, won’t you speak for yourself? Do 
come and walk beside us.” 

But Mary Gilchrist made no rejoinder, 
nor did the newcomer urge her. To Bettina 
his manner if a little abstracted was per- 
fectly courteous, but between him and 
Mary Gilchrist the antagonism, born of 
their meeting, her recent impulsive action 
had augmented. 

“My name is Drain, Allan Drain. I 
beg your pardon, I did not realize I had 
not introduced myself. I believe I did tell 
you I was studying surgery. The choice 
is not mine, it is what my family wish for 
me, not what I wish for myself. I want to 
be a poet, a great poet. I am almost glad 
my health has broken down so I am forced 
to spend this winter alone amid the ever- 
lasting hills.” 


24 AT HALF MOON LAKE 


Bettina felt slightly embarrassed, but 
need not have concerned herself as she was 
not in her companion’s thoughts. 

Entirely self absorbed, he had thrown 
back his head, showing that his features 
were strongly marked, his nose prominent, 
the cheek bones high. 

It struck Bettina that his star gazing at 
present was inward and at his own dream 
of his own star. He seemed a vain and 
not a practical person. If Gill’s estimate 
of his character were severe, yet it might 
hold a germ of truth. 

“Then why do you study surgery?” 
Bettina demanded. “ Still if one is a poet, 
a real poet, I do not believe another pro- 
fession can keep one from fulfilling his gift. 
One might not write so much poetry, but 
it might be all the more beautiful.” 

Her companion shook his head. 

“No, you are altogether wrong; that is 
what too many people argue. A poet must 
live his own life in freedom and among his 
dreams. But one must eat, for even poets 
require food. My own people are poor, 
but I have an uncle who is a distinguished 
surgeon and, as he has no children, wants me 


HALF MOON LAKE 


25 


to follow in his footsteps, and is willing to 
pay for my education. Don't think I do 
not see the greatness of surgery, but I am 
entirely unfitted for the profession and the 
life is too difficult. I don't like an active 
existence; perhaps your friend was right: 
I may prefer to leave the hard tasks to 
others and only enjoy the results of their 
effort." 

Tahawus camp was now only a few yards 
away. Bettina turned and moved back a 
few paces to join her friend. 

“Gill, go to your own room at once if 
you prefer. I will explain how the accident 
occurred. Of course you had no way of 
guessing, but it may be painful to have to 
confess before so large an audience." 

Mary Gilchrist shook her head. 

“No, Princess, you are kind as ever, but 
I must do my own confessing. I feel as if 
I had no right to continue a member of our 
Camp Fire after my behavior, when all 
my fife I have been warned against just 
such recklessness. Why, except for the 
good fortune I did not deserve, I might 
have — " but here Gill faltered and stopped. 

She then moved on ahead and Bettina 


26 AT HALF MOON LAKE 


saw her pause before the group of older 
women. A moment after they were listen- 
ing to her story/ 

Half an hour later Bettina joined her in her 
cabin, in the meantime having introduced 
the young poet to Mrs. Burton, the Camp 
Fire guardian, to Miss Patricia Lord, and 
to her own mother. 

She discovered Gill sitting on the edge 
of her bed. 

“I am to talk over matters with Tante 
in the morning when we can be alone. Of 
course she was very kind. Aunt Patricia, 
however, told me what she likes to call the 
plain truth. Bettina, do you think it my 
duty to leave this fairyland as a punishment 
for my behavior? Perhaps if I remain I 
shall only get into a worse difficulty! Have 
you ever in your life met anyone you dis- 
liked so instinctively that you felt assured 
the influence over you could only be for 
evil? You may think me absurd as you 
like, but the young man we met by accident 
this afternoon immediately had that effect 
upon me. 

“I trust I may never see him again, in 
fact I mean to make an effort not to see 


HALF MOON LAKE 


27 


him. ril not come to supper, I do not wish 
for any. You may give him my share. 
One thing I do know we ought never to be 
brought into contact with each other, and 
yet now he is apt to appear at camp at any 
moment and I shall be responsible, since 
you would never have been able to discover 
him had you been alone !” 

Suddenly Gill’s chin went up and her 
color returned. 

“You don’t think I am cruel really, do 
you, Bettina, more so than the other girls? 
I only shot the game because I heard Aunt 
Patricia say Mrs. Burton required it and 
there was no chance to buy fresh provisions 
until the end of the week. However, I 
don’t believe I shall ever hunt again. 
Perhaps in any case I had best not spend 
the winter at Half Moon Lake; after all, 
I may be happier at home! There are in 
my character certain faults the Sunrise 
Camp Fire has not yet found out. We 
were too busy in France to think of our- 
selves or of each other.” 

Bettina smiled. 

“Why, Gill, what a depressed mood you 
are in! It is most unlike you. Small 


28 AT HALF MOON LAKE 


wonder you do not like our poet if already 
he has had this influence upon you! By 
the way, he is having a beautiful time at 
this moment with Tante and mother and 
I don’t believe will ever trouble any of us. 
It strikes me that he feels entirely superior 
to girls and requires an older audience to 
appreciate him. Farewell, of course I’ll 
bring you your supper. Chitty is not 
suffering in the least and things will adjust 
themselves in the morning when the poet 
shall have disappeared and been forgotten.” 

“ There is no hope of his disappearing,” 
Gill returned disconsolately. “One does 
not so readily dispose of one’s evil genius.” 

However, she joined with Bettina’s laugh- 
ter at her expense. 


CHAPTER III 


Old Friends 

T^LL, thank goodness our youth- 
ful guest has departed at last. 

” * I was fearful that he would 
stay so long we could not have our hour 
together before bedtime. It is a magical 
night; do you suppose it would do you any 
harm, Polly, if for a little while we go out- 
doors? Then perhaps we shall be safe from 
interruption. I am afraid I am selfish 
enough to want you to myself now and 
then, dear, as I used to in the old days.” 

“Nonsense, it was I who wanted you, 
and too often failed to secure you. You 
were the favorite then as you have been 
ever since. This evening, for instance, you 
so charmed the young poet that he com- 
pletely ignored the girls. In fact, you 
flattered him as no one of the Camp Fire 
girls would have condescended to flatter. 
However, you doubtless have prepared 
your own punishment, for I am convinced 
he will expect you to read his poetry. 

( 29 ) 


30 AT HALF MOON LAKE 


“ Suppose we do slip out of doors for half 
an hour. I will put on this old fur coat as 
a protection against the cold, and the 
night is divinely clear.” 

A few moments later the two women, 
who were among the original group of Camp 
Fire girls, stole quietly out of the cabin 
and arm in arm walked down toward the 
shores of Half Moon Lake. 

“I wonder, Betty, how long you will be 
able to endure the solitude of our winter 
woods? I trust until after the snow falls; 
it has been so long since we were together 
in any intimate way. Yet I’m afraid 
you’ll soon be growing lonely and anxious 
for the society life you love and that loves 
you.” 

“Nonsense, Polly! You will not be able 
to be rid of me so promptly. And why 
should I be lonely with you and my own 
Bettina here? Certainly I have seen but 
little of either of you in these past years 
when you have been living and working 
in Europe. So long as my husband remains 
in the West and my son at college I shall 
stay with you until you, or more probably 
Aunt Patricia, drive me away. Do you 


OLD FRIENDS 


31 


know, Polly, actually I need to make my 
own daughter’s acquaintance, to earn her 
affection and confidence as you possess it. 
It is true, although I do not enjoy the 
confession, that I do seem to understand 
boys better than girls and more easily 
make friends with them. Tony and I have 
always been more intimate than I have 
ever managed to be with Bettina. The 
Slim Princess, as Andrew calls her, has 
been her father’s daughter more than mine. 
Polly dear, how have you managed to be 
so successful a Camp Fire guardian so 
many years? Frankly, I did not think it 
was in you! You were more reserved as 
a girl, more self-centered than the rest of 
us, because of course you were a genius, 
dear, and that means one must lead a 
more introspective life. Yet you have 
managed to be an artist and a wonderful 
Camp Fire guardian as well. How many 
different temperaments you have seen un- 
folded, how many girls you have helped 
through an infinite variety of experiences! 
I wonder if the other mothers are as jealous 
of you as I am?” 

“ Don’t be ridiculous, Betty,” Mrs. Bur- 


32 AT HALF MOON LAKE 


ton answered, none too amiably, since as 
a matter of fact amiability was not one of 
her ruling traits of character. “I have 
simply had a good time with my Sunrise 
Camp Fire girls, been as much of a friend 
to them as I have known how to be. And 
they have borne with my bad health and 
bad tempers with amazing sweetness and 
understanding. In truth, you realize, Betty, 
that this winter in the Adirondacks is not 
what I had hoped and planned for this 
winter. With all my heart I wished to go 
back to my stage work! I had discovered 
a wonderful new play and was intending 
to begin rehearsals as soon as I reached 
New York. Then this abominable illness 
of mine returned while we were in Ireland. 
I took a severe cold over there amid the 
Irish mists. So between my husband and 
Aunt Patricia Lord and half a dozen 
doctors, no choice was left me. The Camp 
Fire girls are here in the mountains with 
me for my consolation more than for their 
pleasure, I am afraid. We will have a 
shut-in winter together in this fairy land. 
I sometimes wonder what may happen to 
us after a time when the snows begin and 


OLD FRIENDS 


33 


this place is a great ice palace. But surely 
it is too lovely for me to complain! Look, 
dear, the evening star is just going down 
beyond the farthest hill: 

“Thou fair-haired Angel of the Evening, 

Now while the sun rests on the mountains, light 
Thy bright torch of love — thy radiant crown 
Put on, and smile upon our evening bed! 

Smile on our loves; and, while thou drawest the 
Blue curtains of the sky, scatter thy silver dew 
On every flower that shuts its sweet eyes 
In timely sleep. Let thy west wind sleep on 
The lake; speak silence with thy glimmering eyes, 
And wash the dusk with silver. Soon, full soon, 
Dost thou withdraw; then the wolf rages wide, 
And the lion glares through the dun forest. 

The fleeces of our flock are covered with 

Thy sacred dew ; Protect them with thine influence." 

Then was a brief silence; the woods 
were still at the moment, the two friends 
speechless and there was only the light 
lapping of the waters against the shore. 

“ Polly O’Neill Burton, long ago I was told 
that Sara Bernhardt could make men and 
women shed tears simply by reciting the 
multiplication table or the alphabet. I 
believe you can accomplish the self-same 
result. I presume that you feel you have 


34 AT HALF MOON LAKE 


grown stale with these years of abandoning 
your art, yet I sincerely believe that when 
you return to the stage you will be the 
greater artist. No human being with 
your temperament, Polly, can have passed 
through the emotional experiences of the 
years in Europe and not be inspired by 
them. I am sorry for your present dis- 
appointment, sorry you must wait another 
year to produce the new play, yet when the 
time arrives I shall be prouder of you 
than ever!” 

“ You are a dear, Betty. I hope you are 
a prophet as well, because sometimes I 
am afraid that my day as an artist is past. 
One so quickly is forgotten and I have 
been away from my audiences for so long 
a time. However, I don’t intend to be 
dismal. I am not permitted to be, as a 
matter of fact, by Aunt Patricia. At the 
mildest protest on my part, she is unmer- 
ciful; I suppose that is why I do my 
complaining to you, Betty. Was there 
ever such a character as Aunt Patricia? 
I believe she grows fiercer in manner and 
kiud^. in heart with each passing year, 
lb r l ^construction work in France was so 


OLD FRIENDS 


35 


remarkable that the French government 
wished to present her with a medal of 
honor, which Aunt Patricia was about to 
refuse with scant courtesy when I induced 
her to allow me to write the letter of thanks 
at the time she declined the offer. There 
are moments when she is so autocratic I 
feel I must rebel and yet I am utterly de- 
voted to her and under eternal obligations.” 

“So are we all, Polly, since she saved 
your life in France and may be saving it 
again with her care of you this winter. 
So don’t behave like an unruly child. 
You do manage to keep absurdly young, 
Polly. Molly, your own twin sister, and 
I have confessed to each other that we 
feel ten years your senior. Is it because 
you are a genius or because you have 
remained the guardian of the Sunrise Camp 
Fire girls and been with girls so much 
that you continue one of them?” 

“I decline to answer. Remember, Betty, 
it was you and not I who captured the 
young poet’s attention this evening. I 
wonder if he is to be our nearest neighbor 
during the winter? I trust not, for I 
believe he would be of small service should 


36 AT HALF MOON LAKE 


we get into a difficulty. We are more apt 
to be forced to look after him. By the way, 
Betty, I am glad the William Blake poem 
did not invoke a shiver in you. It struck 
me that the suggestion of the wolf raging 
wide through the dun forest was unpleas- 
antly suggestive, although we are assured 
that the wolf has vanished from the Adiron- 
dack Mountains as surely as the Indian 
braves and that only their ghosts haunt 
their beloved woods.” 

Again for a few moments there was a 
renewed silence, the two friends of many 
years with their arms entwined about each 
other continuing to walk up and down 
contemplating the exquisite landscape under 
the approaching shadow of the night. 

Nearly of the same height, Polly O’Neill 
Burton, who in social life was Mrs. Richard 
Burton, was far slenderer than her com- 
panion, giving her an effect of greater 
youth. 

Betty Graham, who had been Betty 
Ashton in former days, had grown from a 
pretty girl into a rarely beautiful and 
charming woman, distinguished for her 
grace of manner and social gifts. She 


OLD FRIENDS 


37 


was more beautiful than her friend. Even 
as a girl Polly O'Neill had never been 
beautiful in any conventional fashion. Her 
face was long, her features slightly irregular, 
with a broad, low brow and delicate, pointed 
chin. She had a wealth of dusky black 
hair and amazing blue eyes of swiftly 
changing color and expression and a wide, 
mobile mouth. 

Once long ago Betty Ashton had said: 
“One never is aware of the fact that Polly 
possesses any other features than her eyes 
and mouth. Her eyes always hold your 
attention until she begins to speak and 
then the movement of her lips, the haunting 
quality of her voice absorb one." 

To-night the figure which moved beside 
her seemed to be thinner and frailer than 
at any time since her marriage. 

Trying Miss Patricia might be upon 
occasions, yet at present Betty Graham 
could only rejoice at the thought of her 
constant vigilance. Equally devoted she 
and the Camp Fire girls might be, yet 
they possessed neither the wisdom nor the 
authority of Miss Patricia. She remem- 
bered that although pliable in small matters, 


38 AT HALF MOON LAKE 


in any question of her art Polly O’Neill 
had been singularly obstinate. Had she 
not in her girlhood disappeared from her 
family and friends and in defiance of their 
wish devoted herself to her career? 

At present would she remain shut up 
in the winter woods with the new play 
waiting to be produced and New York 
City only a few hours away? 

“Why don’t you study your new part, 
Polly, while you are growing stronger? 
Would it not help to keep you amused?” 

Mrs. Burton shook her head. 

“No, only make the waiting more trying. 
I have promised my husband and Aunt 
Patricia to devote this winter to my health. 
I shall keep my word, but beyond this 
winter I have made no promise. Betty, 
did you hear a strange sound? I am 
very nervous to-night and seem often to 
hear voices in the wind and murmurings 
as if all the fairy folk were whispering 
together. No, I am not mad; remember, 
Betty, how nearly I came to being born 
in Ireland, where not to believe in fairies 
is to forswear one’s birthplace. Besides, 
I often try to reproduce the sounds I hear 


OLD FRIENDS 


39 


in nature. It is a great training for one’s 
voice. And this aids one in acting. Sup- 
pose we go back now to the cabin. I want 
to see that my Camp Fire girls are 
ready for bed. A narrow escape from a 
tragedy this afternoon and yet Mary Gil- 
christ, Gill I prefer calling her, is usually 
the most sensible one of us. One’s guardian 
angel seems to take a holiday now and 
then, and yet Gill’s saved her in the end. 
Good gracious, here comes Aunt Patricia! 
I vainly hoped she would not discover that 
we were out of doors.” 

Through the darkness a tall, severe 
figure could be seen moving with long, 
masculine strides. 

“ Polly O’Neill, is this the fashion in 
which you endeavor to regain your health? 
I presume you go out into the night air 
because you know it is so particularly bad 
for you and in order to give additional 
trouble to the people who are compelled 
,o care for you?” 

“It is a warm, clear night, Aunt Patricia. 
Besides, no one, as you say, is compelled 
to care for me. When I am so ill as to be 
especially troublesome I can send for a 
nurse. Betty and I were just going indoors.” 


40 AT HALF MOON LAKE 


“ Humph !” Miss Patricia grunted in a 
tone of doubt. 

Mrs. Graham laughed, slipping her arm 
affectionately through that of Miss Patricia. 

“We really were coming indoors. But 
look here, Aunt Patricia, if Polly and the 
Camp Fire girls object to being treated 
as if they were young and in need of advice 
and sometimes of discipline, while I am 
with you, suppose you devote yourself to 
me. It would be delightful to be treated 
as if I were a girl again, instead of the 
mother of a grown-up son and daughter.” 

“You have a lovable nature, Betty 
, Graham, which I think your daughter, 
Bettina, has in a measure inherited Polly 
O’Neill Burton, I regret being forced to 
speak of it. is a spoiled and ungrateful 
woman.” 

Mrs. Burton, who had been walking a 
few feet apart from her companions, now 
flushed and laughed. Catching up, she 
slipped her hand through Miss Patricia’s 
free arm, resting her head for an instant 
against the angular shoulder. 

“I may be the one, but you know I am 
not the other, Miss Patricia Lord! Besides, 


OLD FRIENDS 


41 


I am as ashamed of you as I am of myself 
for being in[such a bad»temper. 

“Look at our cabin "how beautiful it is! 
Let us ask Tahawus, the great cloud, to 
keep us under his shelter for the night. 
I hope the Camp Fire girls are safe in bed. 
Sometimes, Betty, I could wish that none 
of them need ever grow older.’ ’ 

“A wish in which they would scarcely 
concur, Polly. One wants the life adventure 
whatever it may be. Besides, our Camp 
Fire builds for the future as well as for 
the present.” 

Having reached the veranda, Bettina 
Graham, hearing the voices outside, came 
to open the front door; wearing a heavy 
blue flannel wrapper over her blue pajamas, 
her bare feet were thrust into blue slippers 
and around her small head her hair was 
closely bound in yellow braids. 

“I have been waiting to say good-night. 
Of course I realized that any truants would 
be you and Tante, mother.” 

“Bettina,” her mother replied irrele- 
vantly, “you should have been called 
Diana; your own name has never suited 
you in the least and it was absurd that 


42 AT HALF MOON LAKE 


you should have been named for me when 
you are so unlike me. Since I have been 
watching you here in these woods ” 

Bettina and Mrs. Burton laughed and 
even Aunt Patricia smiled grimly. 

“Is it my present costume which recalls 
the famous huntress, mother, or is it that 
the woods are making you romantic? 
Please remember that I do not enjoy being 
reminded that I am wholly unlike my 
beautiful mother. I too have wished for 
auburn hair — wine colored our young poet 
called it to-night, did he not? — and eyes 
like ” 

“Go to bed, Bettina. There is nothing 
of the goddess about you in manner or 
behavior at this moment.” 

Mrs. Graham’s tone was half amused 
and half annoyed. 

“Nevertheless, you will receive the poems 
in the morning. Gill and I really rescued 
the poet and deserve the attention,” Bet- 
tina answered, as she ran away to bed, 
tall and slim, with a peculiar grace of 
movement which ever had been char- 
acteristic of her. 


CHAPTER IV 


The Hermit 

I N the return of the Camp Fire girls to 
their own country there was one of the 
girls who was unreservedly glad. Not 
one word of regret, not an instant of repin- 
ing for foreign lands, or scenes or friends, 
and this girl was Sally Ashton, notwith- 
standing the fact that Sally actually had 
been through more entertaining experiences 
than the other girls. However, these 
experiences had made but slight spiritual 
impression upon her, for Sally was a matter- 
of-fact and not an emotional person. She 
had nursed Lieutenant Fleury under cur- 
ious circumstances in the story called 
“The Camp Fire Girls on the Field of 
Honor”, but neither then nor afterwards 
had the young French lieutenant’s grat- 
itude and affection for her wakened more 
than a friendly response. The same result 
followed her acquaintance with the young 
Englishman in “The Camp Fire Girls 

( 43 ) 


44 AT HALF MOON LAKE 


in Merrie England.” Calmly Sally had 
announced in both instances that her own 
affection was indissolubly bound up with 
her own country and that her one desire 
was to return to the United States and 
to spend the rest of her life there. 

At present living with the Camp Fire 
girls in their cabin in the Adirondacks, 
Sally had become her placid and contented 
self. The war was over and she need not 
reflect upon the past, since it was of no 
avail to make herself unhappy with old 
memories. 

Moreover, although not particularly fond 
of the mountains, Sally preferred living 
in the country to the town and was now 
particularly pleased with their household 
arrangements. 

The camp in which they were planning 
to spend the winter was a more expensive 
mode of living than the Camp Fire girls 
appreciated and was possible only because 
of Miss Patricia Lord. Upon Captain and 
Mrs. Burton’s small estate, the last few 
years in Europe had made serious inroads. 
Indeed, one of the reasons for Mrs. Bur- 
ton’s desire to return to her stage career 


THE HERMIT 


45 


was in order to increase their fortune. 
Her husband, Captain Richard Burton, 
was a number of years her senior and 
although an actor at the time of their 
marriage had no desire to continue his 
former profession. In the past years of 
Red Cross work he had lost interest and 
was out of touch with his old life and at 
present was continuing his Red Cross 
work, holding a position at a small salary 
in Washington. 

None of these details of other lives 
disturbed Sally Ashton. She was merely 
aware that their new camp was beautiful 
and comfortable and that she had the 
right to look forward to a long and peaceful 
winter. She and her sister, Alice, had 
spent a few months with their mother and 
father near Boston in the interval of their 
return from England and their arrival in 
the Adirondacks and were expecting their 
mother and father as guests at Christmas. 
Indeed, there were plans for a Christmas 
house party which would tax the capacity 
of the big cabin. 

Ordinarily the Camp Fire work was 
divided so that the girls were allowed to 


46 AT HALF MOON LAKE 


devote their energies to the tasks they 
preferred, and as Sally was more domestic 
in her tastes than any member of the 
Sunrise Camp Fire group, she was fre- 
quently allowed first choice. 

At present she had elected to have charge 
of the big living-room of the cabin and 
at this moment was engaged in putting 
it in order. 

She looked extremely young and pretty 
in her big blue apron which she wore over 
a brown serge frock, the girls having con- 
cluded to lay aside their khaki costumes, 
except on ceremonial occasions, because of 
the cold. Her brown hair, parted a little 
at one side, was brushed smoothly down 
across her forehead and into a large soft 
coil at the back of her head. Over it she 
wore a net, but little tendrils of curling 
brown hair showed on her temples and 
throat. Sally’s skin, ordinarily of a clear, 
warm pallor, was at present at its loveliest 
because she was especially happy and well. 
To Sally happiness meant peace and con- 
tentment rather than intensity of emotion 
or the constant movement of events. 

She leaned down now to thrust some 


THE HERMIT 


47 


white birch sticks under the great log that 
smouldered at the back of the mammoth 
fireplace. Behind the cabin the winter 
fire logs were piled so high as to suggest 
an old time pioneer fortification prepared 
against an attack by the Indians. 

Then when Sally arose she glanced about 
the big room. 

The floors were covered with thick, 
brightly colored rugs for warmth and 
cheerfulness. Until the advent of the 
Sunrise Camp Fire girls, the room had been 
conspicuously a man’s room. As a matter 
of fact, Tahawus cabin had been erected to 
serve as a clubhouse for a group of wealthy 
men who wished to enjoy the winter sports. 
But losing interest, Miss Patricia Lord had 
been able to rent it for the year. 

In the center of the room stood a long, 
heavy oak table sufficiently large for any 
number of books, magazines and news- 
papers. The chairs were upholstered in 
brown leather, while upon the stained walls 
were several fine paintings of scenes in 
the Adirondacks. The sofa was long 
enough for two of the Camp Fire girls to 
find repose at the same time. Above the 
mantel was a magnificent elk’s head. 


48 AT HALF MOON LAKE 


As a man’s club room, the room may 
have been appropriate, but for their pur- 
pose the Camp Fire girls and their guar- 
dian found it unsympathetic. The changes 
they had made were not important, and 
yet its entire character had altered. 

On the mantel were the Camp Fire 
candlesticks holding the three Camp Fire 
candles and Indian baskets and jars filled 
with autumn leaves, bright red berries and 
branches of bayberry. 

To-day on the center table was a big 
bowl of golden roses sent to Mrs. Burton 
by an admirer of her work who but recently 
had learned of her return to the United 
States. There was a basket of brightly 
colored wool, the property of Mrs. Graham, 
who rashly had promised to knit each mem- 
ber of the Camp Fire a new sweater before 
the winter was over. 

On a smaller table was Sally’s own basket 
of silk. Notwithstanding the amusement 
of the other girls, she had begun to piece 
together an old-fashioned octagonal quilt, 
following a pattern of half a century before. 

Indeed, there were many feminine evi- 
dences about the room, some of them too 
subtle to be recognized immediately. 


THE HERMIT 


49 


<? 


Satisfied with her scrutiny, Sally seated 
herself in a large chair before the fire. 

Breakfast had been over for an hour or 
more and the big cabin was almost empty. 
Miss Patricia Lord was outdoors giving 
orders to the man who came in the mornings 
and afternoons to look after the furnace 
and do whatever work it was impossible for 
the girls to accomplish. Mrs. Burton was 
in her own room writing letters or resting. 
Mrs. Graham, Bettina and Marguerite 
Arnot had driven over to Saranac, several 
miles away, to do some important shopping. 
The other girls were studying in one of the 
smaller cabins. It was one of the rules 
for the winter that each member of the 
Sunrise Camp Fire club should devote 
three hours a day to some kind of fairly 
serious study save on holidays. 

Sally personally felt that she should 
follow their righteous example and yet at 
the present moment could scarcely make 
up her mind to be so virtuous. 

Slipping a box from her pocket, she 
placed a chocolate between her small white 
teeth. The box had come through the 
mail the other day with a note from Dan 


50 AT HALF MOON LAKE 


Webster, her old childhood friend. In 
Paris he had suggested that she should 
come home before her other friends. He 
now expressed himself as pleased at her 
return. The letter struck Sally as not so 
enthusiastic as she had the right to expect. 
Dan Webster always had been her especial 
friend since they were children. However, 
he was busy, having recently taken full 
charge of his father’s farm in New Hamp- 
shire, so Sally presumed he was too absorbed 
to give much thought to her. 

Hearing a sound outside in the hall, she 
got up and went to the open door. The 
hall was nearly half the size of the living- 
room with a second large fireplace. Mary 
Gilchrist had just come in from the outdoors. 

“Why, Gill, I thought you were out for 
an early morning walk! I heard Bettina 
say we were not to expect you at breakfast 
as you had made yourself a cup of coffee 
and some toast and would not return until 
we had finished. How white you look! 
Are you worrying over what almost hap- 
pened yesterday? Gill, it bores me so to 
have people worry over the tragedies or 
the misfortunes that do not occur. Alice 


THE HERMIT 


51 


says that is because I have a practical and 
unemotional nature. Perhaps that is true, 
I do not know; it only seems to me a waste 
of time and energy. Elce was not hurt 
yesterday, not seriously. She slept per- 
fectly and says her arm is not painful. 
Yet you look as if you were seriously ill.” 

Mary Gilchrist, who was sometimes called 
Gill and sometimes Mary by the other 
Camp Fire girls, smiled at Sally’s matter- 
of-fact manner. 

“You are a comfortable person, Sally, 
and usually I agree with what you have 
just said and try to follow your illustrious 
example. Only at present I feel as if I 
ought to do some kind of penance for my 
fault. I came to have a quiet talk with 
Mrs. Burton, and to ask her if she feels I 
have forfeited my right to be a member of 
her Camp Fire group.” 

Smiling, Sally shook her head. 

“Oh, you need not trouble over any 
criticism from Tante! Only on the most 
unexpected occasions is she ever stern and 
I am sure she will appreciate that you 
were sufficiently frightened not to be so 
reckless a second time. By the way, I 


52 


AT HALF MOON LAKE 


must tell you something amusing in order 
to cheer you. 

“Early this morning as I was coming to 
breakfast I heard some one at the front 
door. Opening it I discovered the youth 
you and Bettina rescued yesterday. He 
was wearing a bright scarlet tam-o-shanter 
and a velvet coat and had a crimson scarf 
about his neck, and really looked rather 
handsome. I met him at dinner yesterday 
evening, but he was not in the least con- 
cerned in speaking to me and made no 
pretence of recognizing me. At once he 
demanded Mrs. Graham. When Aunt 
Betty came out into the hall he thrust a 
leather case into her hands and asked her 
to read his collection of unpublished 
poems. 

“Aunt Betty was of course very sweet 
and gracious about it, but I heard her moan- 
ing over the fact afterwards that actually 
there are fifty poems. Bettina counted. 
She and Tante were laughing over the fact 
after breakfast, since Aunt Betty insists 
she detests poetry and has scarcely read a 
line of it in years. However, the poet 
appeared to think she would be delighted 
with the opportunity !” 


THE HERMIT 


53 


Mary Gilchrist frowned. 

“Oh, I wish the poet and his poetry 
might vanish together. In fact, if I knew 
where Mrs. Graham had placed the master- 
pieces I should like to light a blaze with 
them. It is absurd of me, Sally, but I took 
a dislike to the youth and afterwards my 
own behavior made me dislike him the 
more, as though he were partly responsible. 
But do go for a walk, Sally, you love the 
indoors as much as I do the open country. 
It is a wonderful morning and will do you 
lots of good.” 

Half an hour later, slightly against her 
will, as she preferred the open fire and her 
sewing, Sally Ashton and the little Lanca- 
shire girl started for a walk together. Mrs. 
Burton had sent word that Chitty was in 
need of amusement and Sally had vol- 
unteered her services. 

Now like children they danced through 
the pine woods behind the camp, sometimes 
walking sedately, at others running a few 
steps, frightening the squirrels and chip- 
munks, who came out and seated them- 
selves on the upper branches of the trees 
to chatter and scold. 


54 AT HALF MOON LAKE 


“You do not appear in the least uncom- 
fortable from your injury yesterday,” Sally 
remarked, after protesting that they walk 
more quietly. “ Nevertheless, suppose we 
sit down and rest for a few moments. I 
am not a gypsy, although I remember you 
once said that you would like to be one.” 

The younger girl, who was a daughter of 
an English miner, sat down on a bed of pine 
needles facing Sally, who preferred the trunk 
of a riven tree. 

“Yes, I used to talk of wishing to be a 
gypsy, but that was before I went to Ireland 
with my father and we attempted to live 
like gypsies. Then we used to go about 
through the villages, where I had to sing in 
the streets for pennies in the wind and rain 
and cold. Sometimes we slept indoors but 
more often in stables and lofts, until I was 
often too weary to sing. Then my father 
grew tired of the wandering life and wished 
to return to the army. Now I think what 
I wished was to live in a forest like this and 
always to be happy and free.” 

Sally’s brown eyes were slightly puzzled. 
The little girl’s nature was an enigma to her, 
as it was to most persons. Freedom seemed 


THE HERMIT 


55 


Chitty’s one dream, and yet she could 
scarcely have known what the great word 
signified even for her own small, individual 
fife. 

“ Suppose you sing for me if you feel well 
enough, Chitty. I have not heard you for 
a long time, you only sing when you are out 
of doors unless some one urges you. I am 
sleepy, so you can feel as if you were almost 
entirely alone.” 

Sally lifted up her head to watch a gleam 
of golden sunlight slant through the exqui- 
site cool darkness of the pine branches and 
to see the long, delicate fingers of the pines 
tremble in the light winds. 

Then suddenly her eyes dropped toward 
her lap. 

If she were not musical, if she were not 
emotional, if she cared little for the outdoors 
and more for the sheltered places and life’s 
serenities, yet the little Lancashire girl’s gift 
set even her pulses stirring. 

Scarcely a proper definition to call the 
variety of sounds which Chitty poured forth 
with the ease and unconsciousness of a 
mocking-bird, singing. There were trills, 
gay and high and poignant, then a low note 
like a sob, then light ripples like wind blow- 


56 AT HALF MOON LAKE 


ing over the water, then bold, straightfor- 
ward whistles, or the plaintive notes of a 
wood dove. 

Never had the effect been more magical 
to Sally’s ears. 

Then suddenly, without being aware of 
any particular reason, she turned her eyes 
and glanced in another direction. 

Seated not many yards away and directly 
facing her was one of the strangest figures 
she had ever seen. The man was so nearly 
the color of the bark of the tree that he 
might have been carved out of wood. His 
hair and skin were a coppery brown, he had 
a short beard of the same shade and eyes 
that were only slightly more brown. He 
did not look very old, although his clothes 
were old and shabby. He wore a leather 
coat and knee breeches and was without a 
hat. Listening with absolute intensity to 
Chitty’s music, he seemed scarcely aware of 
their existence. 

When she ceased, he got up and Sally saw 
that he apparently wished to speak to them, 
and yet could not make up his mind to alarm 
them. 

As a matter of fact, Sally was not in the 
least frightened. 


CHAPTER V 


A Conversation and a Loss 

HAVE not spoken to any human 
being in more than a month,” the 

A stranger said in dull, even tones as if 
he were deaf. 

“Why?” Sally Ashton inquired in her 
usual matter-of-fact fashion. “There are 
many people who come to the Adirondack 
forests and there are towns and villages and 
cities not many miles away. You must 
choose not to speak to anyone. Are you a 
hermit?” 

The man answered slowly: 

“I call myself a hunter and a woodsman. 
My cabin is a good many miles from any 
road and in the summer when the moun- 
tains are filled with tourists I remain near 
my own place. But now that the winter is 
approaching and the woods beginning to 
be deserted save by those of us who live 
here I roam about in search of food and 
change of scene.” 


( 57 ) 


58 AT HALF MOON LAKE 


“Have you always lived here?” Sally 
demanded with her accustomed bluntness. 
“Otherwise you must be in hiding because 
of some trouble or secret you wish to con- 
ceal.” 

For a moment the man stared in silence, 
either angry or amazed. 

“I have not lived here always,” he replied 
evasively, “but there are men in these 
woods who have been here since boyhood. 
One day you may meet a backwoodsman 
who is a great preacher here in God’s taber- 
nacle of the outdoors. You have not told 
me why I find you in the forest when the 
autumn days are passing?” 

Sally shrugged her shoulders. 

“Oh, I am afraid you will not find this 
portion of your woods deserted for many 
months. With a number of other girls and 
some older friends we intend spending the 
winter in these hills. But good-day.” 

Stretching forth her hand, Sally took hold 
of the younger girl’s, intending to walk 
back to their own cabin. If their new ac- 
quaintance did not alarm her, there was 
something in his manner which rendered 
her uncomfortable. 



Fob a Moment the Man Stared In Silence 




60 AT HALF MOON LAKE 


He was not glancing toward her at the 
present instant, but toward the little English 
girl. 

“ Who taught you to sing in that fashion?” 
he inquired. “But there, that was a stupid 
question! No one could have taught a 
child like you. You have a great gift and 
for a little while were able to make me 
forget what I have not forgotten in many 
years. Some day I may again be your 
uninvited audience. Good-by.” 

Then the two girls stood watching the 
figure disappear into a denser portion of the 
woods, and Sally said with a little frown : 

“Odd! At first I was under the impres- 
sion that our new acquaintance was a back- 
woodsman, I mean a man without an 
education except a knowledge of the out- 
doors, but now I am uncertain. In fact, I 
am sure he was once a different character 
of person and came to the forest to escape 
some sorrow or wrong doing. However, as 
I hate mysteries I trust we shall not meet 
him again; probably we never shall.” 

Since the encounter had really been of 
no importance and there were many other 
things on her mind, an hour later Sally had 


A CONVERSATION AND A LOSS 61 


forgotten the occurrence. In truth, at the 
time it did not appear to her or to Chitty 
as of sufficient interest to mention to any 
member of the Camp Fire. 

During the afternoon for several hours 
Sally remained in the study in the smaller 
cabin working at her French and writing a 
letter in French to a member of the first 
Camp Fire club established in the city of 
Paris. Then, at a quarter before four, she 
disappeared to her own room, where she 
made a quick toilet and came down to the 
big living-room in the main cabin. 

From four to five o’clock was the pleasant- 
est hour of the day. The habit of afternoon 
tea so firmly established during the summer 
in “Merrie England” was now continued 
under different conditions in the heart of 
the North woods. 

Nearly all the members of the Sunrise 
Camp Fire who were together for the winter 
season, Sally found seated in a wide circle 
before the open fire. 

Standing beside the tea wagon, which she 
had just rolled into the room, was her own 
sister, Alice Ashton, who had remained in 
France with Miss Patricia Lord and Vera 


62 AT HALF MOON LAKE 


Lagerloff to continue the reconstruction 
work after the other Camp Fire girls had 
crossed to England with their Camp Fire 
guardian. 

Alice Ashton was a tall, serious girl with 
reddish hair and blue eyes, entirely unlike 
Sally in appearance and disposition. 

Kneeling before the fire at this moment 
and toasting thin slices of bread to a beau- 
tiful brownness was Vera Lagerloff, who 
was an American girl notwithstanding her 
foreign name. This was due to the fact 
that her parents were Russians. Vera was 
born in the United States and was an 
American enthusiast. 

Not far away seated in a low chair, a pile 
of lavender silk in her lap, was Marguerite 
Arnot, her dark head bent over her work. 
Older than the other Camp Fire girls by a 
year or more, Marguerite Arnot was actually 
a French girl who had been received as a 
member of the Sunrise Camp Fire under 
exceptional conditions. Brought into their 
household in “ Glorious France” as Miss 
Patricia Lord’s protegee, later she had be- 
come one of their number. Her presence 
in the United States was due to the fact 


A CONVERSATION AND A LOSS 63 


that she had yielded to Mrs. Burton’s and 
to Bettina Graham’s persuasion and had 
decided to make her home in America and 
to go on with her work. Of gentle breeding 
and education, Marguerite Arnot and her 
mother were dressmakers in Paris, until 
her mother’s death during the war had left 
the girl ill and alone. Not long after she 
had the good fortune to make the acquaint- 
ance of Miss Patricia Lord. 

At present Miss Patricia Lord was seated 
behind the rest of the group, reading a 
lengthy report she recently had received 
from France, concerning a home for war 
orphans that she was building in the neigh- 
borhood of one of the great French battle- 
grounds. Every now and then, however, 
her glance wandered from the paper in her 
hand to the figure of a younger woman, 
half seated and half reclining in a great 
chair near the tea table. 

Mrs. Burton, the Camp Fire guardian, 
whose figure was more slender than a young 
girl’s, was wearing a heavy, red-corded silk 
tea gown; the firelight playing on her dusky 
hair, on her white face with the long delicate 
chin and high cheek bones. 


64 AT HALF MOON LAKE 


Seated on a stool beside her, with her 
head resting in the palms of her hands, 
was the youngest member of the household, 
the small daughter of an English miner. 
Chitty’s hair was even blacker than Mrs. 
Burton’s, her skin darker and more sallow, 
and her eyes large, black and wistful. A 
peculiarity of the little girl was that she 
rarely ever talked unless a question were 
addressed to her directly, expressing her- 
self chiefly through her music. 

At a table with her back to the others, 
Mary Gilchrist, who recently had requested 
the Camp Fire girls to use her father’s name 
for her, Gill, rather than Mary, apparently 
was deeply engaged with a history of the 
North woods which she seemed to be read- 
ing. Ordinarily one of the gayest and most 
animated of the group of Camp Fire girls, 
since her reckless action the day before she 
had been uncommonly silent and subdued. 

Bettina Graham and her mother had not 
yet entered the room and tea had not been 
served. 

“ Is that you, Sally dear? I have scarcely 
seen you all day. Tell me what you are 
thinking of while you stand there studying 
our Camp Fire circle.” 


A CONVERSATION AND A LOSS 65 


The other girls, attracted by Mrs. Bur- 
ton’s speech, looked over toward Sally, who 
often was unexpectedly amusing. 

Coming further into the room, Sally stood 
close beside the Camp Fire guardian’s 
chair. 

“Do you want really to hear what I was 
thinking, Tante? I was considering the 
fact that our Sunrise Camp Fire at present 
was smaller in number than I ever have 
known it to be and that I am sorry. 
Yvonne Fleury has returned to live with 
her brother at the Chateau Yvonne, Gerry 
is married and she and Felix in California, 
and now Peggy is no longer with us. 
Naturally, as she is planning to marry 
after Christmas, she wishes to be with her 
mother and father. Well, thank goodness 
we shall have her for a visit at Christmas 
time!” 

Sally’s reply was so unexpected that there 
was a short silence in the big room, broken 
only by the crackling of the wood fire. 

The loss of Peggy 'Webster as a member 
of the Sunrise Camp Fire group was per- 
haps more keenly felt than that of any 
other girl. 


66 AT HALF MOON LAKE 


The daughter of Mrs. Burton’s twin sister, 
Mollie O’Neill, who afterwards became 
Mrs. Daniel Webster, Peggy had been par- 
ticularly devoted to her aunt and, as Mrs. 
Burton had no children of her own, was 
more like her own daughter. Moreover, 
Peggy and Bettina Graham, Sally and Alice 
Ashton had been intimate friends since they 
were tiny children, long before they had any 
acquaintance with the later members of 
their Camp Fire group. Peggy possessed a 
singularly vital personality and was gener- 
ous, ardent and sweet. 

“ Sally, if you love me do not speak of 
Peggy’s absence or of her approaching 
marriage. She is too absurdly young! 
And yet I presume I must have given my 
consent as Peggy declared she would not 
marry without it, although she and Ralph 
Merritt already feel they have waited a 
long time. Sally, I feel as you do that 
our Camp Fire circle is becoming too small. 
Perhaps we shall grow too centered in one 
another and not so helpful as we wish to be. 
What would you suggest as a remedy?” 

There was no immediate reply, the other 
girls as well as Sally Ashton pondering the 
question. 


A CONVERSATION AND A LOSS 67 


“Why, I presume we ought to invite 
other girls to join our Sunrise club,” Sally 
answered a moment later. And although 
her reply was neither original nor startling, 
it was received with unsympathetic silence. 

“You have the most unfortunate fashion, 
Sally, of saying things other people would 
prefer not to hear,” Alice Ashton remarked 
with skterly severeness. Then, before any 
one else had an opportunity to speak, the 
living-room door opened and Mrs. Graham 
and Bettina entered. 

“Glad you have arrived at last, Betty, 
we have been waiting tea for you and 
Bettina. I was just about to send one of 
the girls to find out what had become of 
you. Vera has made a wonderful lot of 
toast and we don’t wish it to grow cold.” 

“Sorry to have delayed you,” Mrs. 
Graham replied, “but the most extraor- 
dinary thing has occurred. I am glad to 
find all of you gathered together here at 
the same time. This morning the young 
fellow, Allen Drain, who had dinner with 
us, brought me a collection of his unpub- 
lished poems which he wished to have me 
read They were in a black leather port- 


68 AT HALF MOON LAKE 


folio about a foot square. When I drove 
to Saranac this morning I left the portfolio 
on a small table in Bettina’s and my bed- 
room. Since my return Bettina and I have 
searched for more than an hour and can 
find no sign of it. Did you, Polly, or any 
of the girls take possession of it? I cannot 
believe Aunt Patricia would be interested. 
Some one of course must have moved it. 
I don’t mean to be cross, but I think I 
should have been told. Bettina and I 
have had an uncomfortable hour of search- 
ing. Yet, whoever loved the poems better 
than I shall be forgiven as soon as they are 
restored to me.” 

There was no immediate reply, Mrs. 
Burton, Aunt Patricia and the girls glanc- 
ing at one another, each expecting the 
other to plead guilty. 

“Well, confess, please, won’t some one? 
I am sure the poet would be flattered if he 
learned what has occurred,” Mrs. Burton 
added. “I am sorry, Betty. You should 
have come at once and asked, rather than 
tired yourself by searching.” 

“Never a sign of the poet’s manuscript 
have I beheld!” Alice Ashton returned. 


A CONVERSATION AND A LOSS 69 


“I am guiltless, Mrs. Graham, but why 
did you not let me know so that I might 
have helped you look?” Marguerite Arnot 
answered. 

One by one each separate member of the 
little circle announced an utter lack of 
information with regard to the lost port- 
folio, save Mary Gilchrist, who had gone 
on with her reading after Bettina and her 
mother’s entrance into the living-room. 

“Mary, I wonder if by any chance you 
noticed the manuscript of the poems in 
Mrs. Graham’s room when I asked you to 
find a magazine for me this morning?” 
Mrs. Burton inquired. 

Mary Gilchrist glanced up from the pages 
of her book, flushing slightly. 

“No, I don’t recall seeing the manuscript, 
but really I cannot appreciate why Mrs. 
Graham should be so concerned. I have 
an idea the poems were of no value; 
probably some one thought they were waste 
paper and they were thrown into the fire.” 

“But, Gill, I don’t believe you understand 
the situation,” Bettina Graham remon- 
strated. ‘ ‘ Whether or not the poems were of 
value they must represent years of work and 


70 AT HALF MOON LAKE 


thought to Mr. Drain. I have no doubt 
they mean more to him than we can well 
imagine. Besides, the poems were en- 
trusted to mother’s keeping and it would 
be simply too dreadful if they could not be 
found!” 

Shrugging her shoulders slightly, Mary 
Gilchrist resumed her reading, while Mrs. 
Graham sat down beside the Camp Fire 
guardian. 

“ Don’t trouble, Betty dear, I am dis- 
tressed that you have been uneasy, but let’s 
have tea and then begin a more thorough 
search of the entire house. The manu- 
script of course is only tucked away some- 
where out of sight and will soon be found. 
Poor young poet, nothing so tragic could 
have happened as that his verse should be 
lost!” 

“You don’t suppose, Polly, that by any 
unlucky chance, if the portfolio is not dis- 
covered the boy has no copies of his verses? 
I scarcely dare face him unless the original 
manuscript which he gave to me this morn- 
ing with such pride and pleasure, is restored. 
I cannot even face the idea that the effort 
of the boy’s lifetime may be destroyed.” 


A CONVERSATION AND A LOSS 71 


“ Nonsense, mother, drink your tea and 
afterwards we will return to the search! 
Nothing else has disappeared save the 
manuscript, which would scarcely attract 
an ordinary thief.” 

“Perhaps the poet himself returned mys- 
teriously and bore off his own handiwork, 
unable to be so long without it,” Mary 
Gilchrist suggested. No one made a reply. 


CHAPTER VI 


“A Man for a’ That.” 

S EVERAL days later Mary Gilchrist 
was again in the living-room in the 
early afternoon, but on this occasion 
she was alone. 

At the piano in the corner of the room 
she was practising a number of new Camp 
Fire songs. During their shut-in winter in 
the mountains, music promised to be one of 
the principal relaxations, and, although not 
so good a pianist as Bettina Graham, Gill 
felt it her duty to regain a little of her lost 
skill, due to the failure to work at her music 
during the years spent abroad. 

At present she was attempting a more 
ambitious effort, trying to capture and 
repeat the odd, musical notes that poured 
forth so spontaneously from the youngest 
of the Camp Fire girls. Meeting with 
scant success, she was so intent upon her 
effort that she was not aroused until the 
living room door opened and an unexpected 
guest entered. 


( 72 ) 


“A MAN FOR A’ THAT” 


73 


As he did not glance in her direction, at 
the same instant Mary Gilchrist slipped from 
the piano stool and at once concealed herself 
behind a tall fire screen that had been placed 
near the wall. Her action was involuntary, 
since she scarcely had time for thought; 
nevertheless, once in her place of hiding, 
deliberately Gill made up her mind to 
remain where she was until she might escape 
without detection. 

The visitor who had come into the living- 
room was Allan Drain. 

They had not seen each other since their 
original meeting and Gill wished for no 
other. Not liking her present position, 
yet it appeared impossible to make her 
escape without being discovered and so 
obliged to speak with him alone. 

Between a tiny opening in the screen she 
could behold a tall figure moving up and 
down before the fire, and afterwards quietly 
gazing into its depths. He looked older 
than she recalled and yet Gill felt that 
she disliked his appearance. The thin 
figure seemed theatrical and self-conscious 
and in a way effeminate, but then the type 
of youth she admired had great physical 


74 AT HALF MOON LAKE 


strength and courage, and Gill was con- 
vinced that the present unconscious actor 
was possessed of neither. 

She was aroused from her reflections by 
a second opening of the door and the appear- 
ance of Mrs. Graham in the same room. 

Dressed in a simple, dark blue serge, 
nevertheless she gave an effect of social 
elegance and grace. A remarkably pretty 
girl as Betty Ashton, as Mrs. Anthony 
Graham, the wife of a distinguished United 
States senator, her beauty and poise had 
increased with added years and opportuni- 
ties. 

Her abundant auburn hair had the lovely 
sheen which comes from careful attention, 
there were a few lines about her eyes, but 
except for these her skin was firm and clear 
with a bright rose color in her cheeks, her 
nose short and straight, her lips full and 
deeply curved. 

Not able to catch her expression as she 
moved swiftly across the room and held out 
her hand to their guest, Gill was able to 
hear her first words and to wish that she 
had faced the situation in the beginning 
rather than place herself in her present posi- 


“A MAN FOR A’ THAT” 


75 


tion. No one in their household would be 
more vexed than Mrs. Graham to discover 
her in hiding. 

Brought up by her father on their large 
wheat farm in the middle west, Mary Gil- 
christ had lived an outdoor life, and with- 
out a mother had been taught few of the 
social amenities. During the years abroad, 
her strength and endurance, her skill as a 
motorist, her somewhat boyish abilities had 
proved so useful that it had not occurred 
to Mary Gilchrist until her return to the 
United States that she was without the 
social knowledge and education that girls 
of her age and position should possess. 
Before her visit home, during the few 
weeks in New York City, she had been 
conscious of her own awkwardness, par- 
ticularly appreciating the difference between 
her own manners and Bettina Graham’s. 
For this reason, as well as others, she was 
pleased over the Camp Fire’s choice of the 
Adirondack forest for their winter home. 
In a wide, free, outdoor atmosphere she 
would be once more at ease and undisturbed 
by her want of social knowledge. 

Then, unexpectedly, Bettina’s mother, 


76 AT HALF MOON LAKE 


Mrs. Graham, had chosen to spend the 
winter with them and from the first moment 
of their introduction Gill had been able to 
understand why Bettina Graham had ac- 
quired a poise and graciousness no one of 
the other Sunrise Camp Fire girls possessed. 

Moreover, what Bettina had in slight 
measure her mother possessed in fuller 
degree. Indeed, not alone to Mary Gil- 
christ’s untrained judgment, but among 
persons with the widest social acquaintance, 
Betty Graham was famous for her charm 
of manner and her gift for attracting men 
and women. 

“I wrote to ask you to come to see me 
to-day for a special reason, Mr. Drain. 
But because I am sorrier than I can say I 
am going to explain to you at once and 
have the ordeal past. I shall not ask you 
to forgive me, only to appreciate my regret. 
Suppose we both sit down.” 

Instinctively disliking Allan Drain, yet 
Mary Gilchrist realized that he also had a 
gracious and cultivated manner when he 
chose to employ it, as he did with Mrs. 
Graham. From her vantage point, Gill 
watched him draw a chair closer to the fire 


A MAN FOR A' THAT 


77 


and wait until Mrs. Graham was seated, 
before seating himself near her. 

“I cannot imagine why you should be 
asking my pardon for a mistake or a fault, 
but of course you know that I freely forgive 
you. The apology should come from me. 
I appreciated later that I ought not to have 
thrust my poor verses upon you to bore you 
and absorb your time when I knew you so 
slightly. The truth is I am lonely this 
winter and my scribbling means more to 
me than it warrants. My family are not 
in sympathy with my versifying or any of 
my views of life. There are no women 
among us, there is only my father, two older 
brothers and myself. They have worked 
very hard and are not prosperous and feel 
I ought to be grateful to my uncle for 
offering me the education they were not 
able to have.” 

“Then it is all the more difficult for me 
to tell you, Mr. Drain, that the manuscripts 
of your poems which you entrusted to me 
have by some extraordinary chance van- 
ished. I did not wish to tell you of this and 
so for days I have made inquiries and every 
member of our household has searched for 


78 f AT HALF MOON LAKE 


the verses. Now I cannot conceive of what 
actually has become of them, and yet I am 
afraid I am beginning to lose hope of their 
being discovered. It is all the more mys- 
terious because we have no maids, no one 
who could have thrown the papers away 
from sheer carelessness and then be unwill- 
ing to confess. Nevertheless, I do feel so 
guilty and responsible, for if I had locked 
the manuscript away instead of placing it 
on a small table in my bed-room along with 
some books and papers, this probably would 
not have occurred.” 

Mrs. Graham leaned over and laid her 
hand lightly upon her companion's. 

“Do reproach me, please do not look so 
white and wretched. I know the loss of 
your verses means many days of your time. 
But if you will give me the privilege, in 
order to show you have in a measure for- 
given me, I shall send for some one to come 
to you and do the typewriting for you a 
second time, or if you will permit Bettina 
to copy the poems, I am sure she will do 
her best." 

“But, Mrs. Graham, I have no other 
copies of my poems, except three or four 


“A MAN FOR A’ THAT” 


79 


which I have had the good luck to have 
published in second-class magazines. Two 
days before I brought my manuscript to 
you I got them all into shape and burned 
up and threw away the odd bits of paper 
upon which they had been written. The 
afternoon I met your daughter and her 
friends in the woods I had gone for a 
walk to celebrate the fact that my task 
was accomplished. As I was thinking more 
of my verses than the landmarks, I lost my 
way. But please, please don’t be so 
unhappy on my account. The fault was 
mine, not yours. I should not have troubled 
you. You’ll allow me to say good-by and 
come to see you another day. No use 
pretending, Mrs. Graham, that I am not 
a good deal cut up and that I don’t feel 
that fate has been pretty hard. You are 
sure that you have looked everywhere and 
that the manuscript has not merely been 
misplaced.” 

“I’m afraid not. But really I don’t feel 
that I can accept the idea that your verses 
are lost forever. Surely you must recall 
some of them, or will find stray copies here 
and there!” There were tears in Mrs. 
Graham’s voice as well as in her eyes. 


80 AT HALF MOON LAKE 


“ Don’t stay any longer than you wish, 
if it only makes things harder for you. 
One would rather, I know, face disappoint- 
ment alone. And don’t try to fight your 
resentment, I shall feel better the angrier 
you are with me.” 

Allan Drain and Mrs. Graham arose at 
the same time, and Mary Gilchrist, scarcely 
realizing what she was doing, half followed 
their example, so that she was enabled to 
see the two figures over the top of her 
screen. 

Mrs. Graham’s back was turned to her, 
but she could catch a glimpse of her com- 
panion’s face. He was painfully white, 
yet his lips were firmly closed and his 
expression showed less of the self pity 
than she anticipated. 

“You are very brave, braver than I could 
possibly be in your place,” Mrs. Graham 
murmured. “If there was only something 
I could do, some possible way to make up 
to you I should not feel so unhappy. Yet 
for the loss of creative work there is no 
recompense.” 

“Oh, but my work was not so valuable 
as all that, Mrs. Graham, you are mistaken. 


; "A MAN FOR A’ THAT” 


81 


Most of my poetry was the veriest trash. 
Editors and friends were of the same opin- 
ion. Good-by, I will come in again in a 
day or so, if you will allow me.” 

The following instant the young man 
was gone. 

Startled and troubled by his swift de- 
parture, making an unexpected movement 
behind her screen, Gill beheld the screen 
pitch forward and stood facing Mrs. Gra- 
ham, who had swung around at the unex- 
pected sound. 

“You have been in hiding and listening 
to what Mr. Drain and I were saying to 
each other, one of the Sunrise Camp Fire 
girls! I am afraid I do not understand. 
There was nothing in our conversation you 
might not have heard openly, had you cared 
to join us.” 

There was more surprise than reproach 
in Mrs. Graham’s manner and voice. 

Blushing hotly, Mary Gilchrist felt un- 
able to offer a defense. What defense had 
she to offer? 

“I had no thought of listening, not at 
first, Mrs. Graham. In order not to be 
seen I hid myself for a moment and then 


82 AT HALF MOON LAKE 


when you came into the room I did not 
wish to interrupt you.” 

Even to her own ears Gill did not feel that 
her explanation really explained. There- 
fore she could scarcely resent the slight 
look of disdain on her companion’s face, 
as she answered: 

“You are not a child and under the cir- 
cumstances I think might have met the 
situation in a less undignified fashion. As 
Mrs. Burton is not well I shall not trouble 
her by speaking of this because I am afraid 
she would be a good deal displeased.” 


CHAPTER VII 


Friendship 

HE first snow of the season was 
falling. 



■*“ Outside the night was transcend- 
ency lovely, the hills covered with white 
blankets, the trees, surprised at the first 
winter breath, shaking crumpled leaves of 
faded gold or bronze to be buried under 
the snow. On the lake in front of Tahawus 
cabin there was a light covering of ice, 
making a bed for the snowflakes. 

Overhead the moon shone down upon 
the winter silence of the woods. 

Inside the large cabin the Camp Fire girls 
were seated about the fire in ceremonial 
fashion, the Council meeting having just 
ended. On the mantel the candles were 
dying, although there was no other light in 
the room save their flickering flames and 
the light of the fire. 

“Well, good-night, I’ll leave you to your 
final talk, not because I desire it, but 


( 83 ) 


84 AT HALF MOON LAKE 


because I seem to be under orders,” Mrs. 
Burton protested, rising from her usual 
position in the center of the circle. 

A few feet away Mrs. Graham stood 
waiting for her, and a moment later they 
had disappeared arm in arm. 

Afterwards there was a short silence 
broken at last by Sally Ashton. 

“I wonder why our own Camp Fire club 
has never produced so devoted a friendship 
as Tante and Aunt Betty have enjoyed so 
many years.” 

“Saul and Jonathan were lovely and pleasant in their 
lives, 

And in their death they were not divided; 

They were swifter than eagles, 

They were stronger than lions.” 

“Forgive my quoting,” Bettina Graham 
murmured, “but as we were to talk of 
friendship to-night after our regular meet- 
ing, those lines have been in my mind all 
day. I like Vera’s idea that we choose a 
subject of conversation at our Camp Fire 
meetings, once the actual business is over.” 

At this instant Vera Lager off was glanc- 
ing out the window; purposely the blinds 


FRIENDSHIP 


85 


had been left up so as not to shut out the 
beauty of the night. 

She turned now and looked from one girl 
to the other. 

“Is it true what Sally has just said?” she 
inquired. “Have we no friendships in our 
own Camp Fire circle as deep and ardent 
and with the promise of continuing as Mrs. 
Burton’s and Mrs. Graham’s has for so 
many years?” 

“Oh, Sally is always making amazing 
speeches! I thought we were all extremely 
fond of one another. In fact, Vera, per- 
haps you and I have more things in common 
because of our work together in France. 
I don’t believe I shall ever be so content 
anywhere else,” Alice Ashton remonstrated. 

At one of the outermost ends of the semi- 
circle, close up to the fire, Sally was seated. 
At this moment she wore a frown between 
her level brows, but not because she ob- 
jected to her sister’s statement, which she 
scarcely had heard, but because she was 
pursuing her own idea and her mind did 
not work swiftly. 

“Oh, of course I know we are friends after 
a fashion,” Sally returned, “but I suppose 


86 AT HALF MOON LAKE 


I was thinking of the David and Jonathan 
kind of friendship, something big and won- 
derful and everlasting. I know I have 
never had anything approaching a great 
intimacy with any one of you girls in the 
years we have been together in our Camp 
Fire club. Gerry and I were extremely 
friendly, nothing more. After she married 
Felix we soon ceased even writing to each 
other.” 

A moment Sally leaned her chin in her 
hand. 

“In spite of our Sunrise Camp Fire, I 
believe I have been more intimate with 
Dan Webster, and he has been a closer, 
warmer friend to me than any one of you 
girls. Yet I have not seen much of him 
since I was a small girl, save the summer 
in California and for a little while in Paris 
after the close of the war.” 

“Well, I think I should not care to make 
such a confession, Sally Ashton. Our Camp 
Fire organization was created partly to 
teach us the value of friendship among 
girls, and not only friendship but the 
ability to live together and work together. 
I consider we have accomplished this with 


FRIENDSHIP 


87 


enough success to be proud,” Alice Ashton 
argued. 

The silence was half thoughtful, half 
antagonistic. 

“ I by no means agree with Sally. How- 
ever, I can speak only for myself,” Bettina 
Graham interposed. “ The friendships I have 
had in our Camp Fire club are the deepest 
in my life. I hardly dare allow myself to 
think of Peggy Webster’s marriage, which 
is not many months away. Besides, I do 
not wish to be personal, I suppose none of 
us do, yet, in spite of Sally’s unfaith, I am 
sure there are other intimate friendships 
among us. Moreover, what our ideal really 
should be, is not what Sally suggests, beau- 
tiful and inspiring as the story of David 
and Jonathan. Our intimacy should extend 
through all our Camp Fire club and we 
should care for one another almost equally.” 

In the wide semi-circle, one of the girls 
had been unusually silent during the eve- 
ning, indeed had never spoken unless a 
question were directly addressed to her. 

At this instant she looked closely at Bet- 
tina Graham with a peculiar expression in 
which there was appeal and defiance. 


88 AT HALF MOON LAKE 


“You are an idealist, Bettina, and the 
type of idealist who demands the impossible. 
Human beings can not care for one another 
in the same degree. It is against the law 
of nature itself. We can be loyal and 
interested in every member of our Camp 
Fire group, yet we cannot care for each 
one alike. You yourself are unable to, for 
no one has taken Peggy Webster’s place 
with you, and perhaps no one of us ever 
shall.” 

Half shyly the girls glanced from one to 
the other when Mary Gilchrist had ceased 
speaking. Gill dropped her eyes so that 
their gaze appeared concentrated upon her 
hands which she held folded together in 
her lap. 

The fact that Gill for many months had 
made every effort to fill Peggy’s place in 
Bettina’s friendship was well known to 
every one of the other girls, except perchance 
to Bettina herself. Yet if at first Bettina 
had seemed to welcome the other girl’s 
admiration and in a measure to return her 
affection, of late she had kept apart from her 
as much as possible. Bettina was not 
unkind, only her manner was cold and 


FRIENDSHIP 


89 


reserved. More openly Mrs. Graham be- 
trayed less liking for Mary Gilchrist than 
any one of the group of Camp Fire girls. 

However, as Marguerite Arnot had come 
from Paris to live for a time with Mrs. 
Graham and Bettina, it was but natural 
that at present they should show a special 
interest in her. 

At this moment, as Bettina made no 
reply to Mary Gilchrist’s implied invita- 
tion, Sally interposed with characteristic 
coolness. 

“Oh, I appreciate that I always have 
been more of an outsider than any other 
member of our Sunrise Camp Fire. Don’t 
think I am complaining; I realize that I 
am colder or more selfish and that I have 
fewer intimacies. But, Vera,” Sally’s large 
golden brown eyes caught those of the 
other girl, who plainly had been thinking 
of something else, “Vera, to-night, during 
our discussion of friendship, are you think- 
ing of one of us, or of Billy Webster? Was 
he not more truly your friend than any 
member of our Camp Fire?” 

“Sally!” came the shocked exclamation 
from several of the girls at the same instant. 


90 AT HALF MOON LAKE 


However, Vera Lagerloff’s long eyes, with 
their odd foreign look, met Sally’s bravely. 

“ There is no reason why Sally should not 
speak of Billy Webster. Please do not 
think I ever forget him. Yes, Sally, Billy 
was the best friend I ever had or hope to 
have. Yet his death in California* has not 
left me less ready to give my friendship to 
our Camp Fire. Indeed, I sometimes feel 
it is only through the Camp Fire and our 
work in France that I have been able to 
accept Billy’s passing away.” 

“ ‘He that loseth his life shall gain it/ ” 
Bettina quoted softly. 

In the midst of the pause, feeling that 
her introduction of Billy Webster’s memory 
had made their discussion of friendship 
more sorrowful than she had intended, and 
conscious that Alice and Bettina were 
frowning upon her with varying degrees 
of severity, Sally turned her gaze from the 
firelight and her group of friends. 

At the instant her attention was attracted 
by a whirr of snow against the window It 
was as if an errant gust of wind had tossed 
great handfuls against the pane. 

* See “Camp Fire Girls at the End of the Trail/’ 


FRIENDSHIP 


91 


There was a noise outside, a little scuf- 
fling, uncertain noise. 

Sally looked more closely, and as she 
looked her eyes widened and her red lips 
parted. The color faded slowly from her 
fire-warmed cheeks. 

The next instant she was on her feet. 

“I saw a face outside the window/’ she 
exclaimed. “ And one I have seen before!” 

Fifteen minutes later the big living-room 
in the winter cabin at Half Moon Lake was 
deserted, the discussion on friendship having 
ended abruptly before it was well begun. 

On the mantel the candles representing 
work, health and love^had ceased to glow. 
There were only a few sparks left to 
smoulder amid the ashes of the log fire. 

No one of the other girls had seen a 
vision at the window save Sally Ashton, 
and therefore believed that she had been 
mistaken. Some animal may have wan- 
dered out of the deep woods because of the 
storm and been attracted by the lights 
inside the cabin. 

Yet the spell was broken and bed ap- 
peared the happiest solution. 


CHAPTER VIII 


Midwinter 


0 the Sunrise Camp Fire girls the 



closing in of winter about Tahawus 


cabin brought a new experience of 
life. Never in the many seasons spent 
together under varying conditions had they 
been so thrown upon their own resources 
for happiness and growth! 

Of the outside world of companionship 
and stimulation, they had no one and 
nothing upon which they might depend, 
and this following two eventful years in 
Europe during the close and in the months 
after the great war. 

Yet they had been told what they must 
expect, the quiet, the loneliness, the shut- 
in-ness of their existence. 

Discovering that her health made it 
unwise to attempt returning to the stage 
during the winter, Mrs. Burton anticipated 
spending the winter alone in the Adiron- 
dacks save for occasional visits from her 


( 92 ) 


MIDWINTER 


93 


husband and Aunt Patricia, her sister and 
possibly her friend, Betty Graham. 

However, Miss Patricia Lord had been 
first to decry an arrangement of this char- 
acter, protesting that since Polly O’Neill 
Burton appeared unable to look after her- 
self when she was not ill, what could one 
expect of her under other conditions! Per- 
sonally she had no idea of permitting her 
to make further trouble for her husband 
and friends. This was of course Miss 
Patricia’s fashion of confessing that noth- 
ing could separate her from the individual 
she loved best in the world, so long as her 
care, devotion and wealth could be of 
service. 

Without Mrs. Burton’s knowledge Cap- 
tain Burton and Miss Patricia made a 
journey to the Adirondacks, where they 
secured the lease of Tahawus cabin for a 
year with the privilege of a longer term, 
and here, a few weeks later, Mrs. Burton 
found herself established under Miss Patri- 
cia’s guardianship, her husband being forced 
to return to his work in Washington. 

The maid who accompanied them Miss 
Patricia soon dismissed, announcing that 


94 V AT HALF MOON LAKE 


she gave more trouble than assistance. 
And, although regretting her loss, seeing 
that the girl herself was lonely and unhappy 
and unable to live in peace with Miss 
Patricia, Mrs. Burton felt obliged to con- 
sent. Later she made a number of efforts 
to secure another maid (Marie, who had 
lived with her so many years, having been 
left behind in France), but up to the present 
time no one had been discovered agreeable 
to Miss Patricia. 

Annoyed and unhappy over the amount 
of work Miss Patricia insisted upon under- 
taking, Mrs. Burton found her protests 
and efforts toward aid both set aside. 
Moreover, as rest was essential to her 
recovery, she dared not undertake heavy 
tasks. 

During the latter part of the summer and 
the early fall, therefore, she and Miss 
Patricia lived alone at the cabin, although 
for various reasons neither of them par- 
ticularly content. 

Miss Patricia’s anxiety revealed itself in 
an increasing sternness and solicitude which 
left her charge small opportunity for peace. 

Mrs. Burton, who was not seriously ill so 


MIDWINTER 


95 


long as she was resting and in a proper envi- 
ronment, oftentimes found herself lonely 
and restless, and ashamed of her discontent. 

She was surrounded with every comfort 
and a good deal of luxury. Her room, 
twenty feet square, had four large windows 
facing the south and west; the plastered 
walls were painted a pale yellow with cur- 
tains of a deeper shade. Upholstered in yel- 
low silk with half a dozen yellow and brown 
silk curtains, was the couch Miss Patricia 
had ordered from New York to be in keeping 
with the room. Supplies of magazines and 
books were sent weekly from town, letters 
arrived in generous number, occasionally a 
visitor appeared from one of the hotels or 
cottages a few miles off, but oftentimes was 
sent away unseen by Mrs. Burton, Aunt 
Patricia concluding that she were better 
left alone if the visitor happened to be not 
a friend but an acquaintance merely desir- 
ing to do homage to a famous woman. 

Fortunately Miss Patricia looked with 
favor upon the physician who made weekly 
calls upon his patient. Miss Lord had 
secured a cabin in this particular neighbor- 
hood in order that the younger woman 
might be under his care. 


96 AT HALF MOON LAKE 


One afternoon during the first week in 
September, Miss Patricia and Mrs. Burton 
were sitting in her bed-room between five 
and six o’clock. The twilight was beginning 
to close gently in so that a single lamp was 
lighted on a table which stood near Mrs. 
Burton’s couch. Lying upon the couch, 
she was holding a newspaper open in her 
hand, but at the moment was not reading. 

A few feet away Miss Patricia sat grimly 
hemming dish towels. 

Neither had spoken in the last ten min- 
utes, not since Dr. Larimer, after an hour’s 
visit, had driven away. 

“You are an extremely entertaining com- 
panion, Polly. Do you realize you scarcely 
have spoken to me all day, and yet you 
seemed to find a great deal to discuss with 
Dr. Larimer; perhaps because he is a man 
and I am only a woman.” 

Swiftly Mrs. Burton dropped the paper 
which had been hiding her face. 

“I am so sorry, dear, to have been so 
stupid; I have been reading since Dr. 
Larimer’s visit. But it is unkind of you 
to say I preferred talking to Dr. Larimer 
for such a reason, when you know what I 
wanted to discuss with him.” 


MIDWINTER 


97 


“Yes, and his answer was exactly what 
I anticipated/’ Miss Patricia answered 
severely, although her eyes were now search- 
ing the younger woman’s face. “ Polly, I 
desire you to be truthful, even when the 
truth appears less complimentary to me. 
In the last few minutes you have not read 
a single line. I have been watching you 
and ” 

The paper slid to the floor as Mrs. Burton 
sat up clasping her arms about her knees. 
Her corded yellow silk gown with a soft fall 
of lace about her throat had been put on in 
honor of the doctor’s call; her black hair 
was loosely coiled on top of her head, her 
cheeks too brightly flushed, her blue eyes 
less clear than usual. 

“Come and sit beside me, Aunt Patricia, 
please do as I want to make a confession. 
It is true I have not been reading these last 
few minutes because a few moments ago 
I read the announcement of a brilliant new 
play produced in New York City last week 
and I was envious and rebellious. Of course 
I really expected to have Dr. Larimer 
declare that I must remain all winter in 
the mountains and yet I must have hoped 


98 AT HALF MOON LAKE 


he would allow me to return to town after 
a few more months. I am sorry of course, 
but really, Aunt Patricia, you must not 
bury yourself here with me, when I am 
such a burden besides being a stupid com- 
panion.” 

“ Don’t talk nonsense, Polly, if you can 
avoid it,” was Miss Patricia’s reply. Yet 
she came and seated herself on the couch 
beside the younger woman, and by and by 
her arm was about her. 

“See here, my child,” she announced a 
few moments later, “the truth is, I am 
neither lonely nor dissatisfied, but you are. 
I am never unhappy when I am with you. 
However, that is neither here nor there. 
Naturally you need other companionship 
than an excessively disagreeable old woman. 
Your husband cannot be with you this 
winter, his work makes it impossible. I 
have been thinking for several days of an 
idea which I discussed with the doctor this 
afternoon after his conversation with you. 
Why not have your own Camp Fire girls 
to spend the winter at the cabin with you? 
You are accustomed to them and they would 
keep you interested and able to give less 


MIDWINTER 


99 


time to thinking of yourself. Dr. Larimer 
has no objection; says you will grow stronger 
as soon as you are in a more cheerful frame 
of mind. Would you like to have the girls, 
dear, because if so, in the last ten moments 
before I reproached you for not speaking, 
I had been planning a letter to each one of 
the girls which I shall write to-night, once 
you are asleep.” 

“I am afraid they won’t care to join us 
here, Aunt Patricia. The winter will be so 
long and cold and at present the Camp 
Fire girls are in their own homes. You 
must not on my account ask them to come 
to us; we shall be happy alone, except now 
and then when I am especially tiresome.” 

However, at the mere suggestion Mrs. 
Burton’s face had flushed, her eyes were 
no longer clouded and a bit of her old 
animation had returned. 

“Our invitation to the Sunrise Camp Fire 
girls shall not imply a favor to us should 
they care to accept. I shall also tell them 
what they are to expect,” Miss Patricia 
added. “If they elect to spend a winter 
in the Adirondack forest, it will be of 
benefit to their health as well as to yours. 


100 AT HALF MOON LAKE 


Moreover, do not believe that I am issuing 
this invitation solely on your account, Polly. 
More than I dreamed possible I am missing 
the Camp Fire girls myself, particularly 
Vera and Alice, who are more sensible than 
the others.” 

Later in the same evening, while Mrs. 
Burton lay half asleep on her couch, seated 
not far away Miss Patricia Lord wrote her 
letters of invitation. She kept her word; 
the letters mentioned the conditions the 
girls would be forced to meet, the long cold, 
the quiet days and nights and the fact that 
they could count on but little society or 
entertainment save what they could create 
among themselves. However, the cabin 
was comfortable and the surroundings beau- 
tiful. In only one line did Miss Patricia 
betray the fact that she believed their Camp 
Fire guardian’s health might be improved 
by the companionship of the group of girls 
who had meant so much to her in the past 
years. 

Yet it may have been this line that repre- 
sented the necessary influence, or merely 
that the girls enjoyed the novelty of a 
winter in the North woods. 


MIDWINTER 


101 


Whatever the reason, October found them 
living together in their accustomed fashion 
and now October had passed and November 
and it was the first week of December. 

So far, according to the woodsmen, the 
winter had been a remarkably open one. 

One Friday afternoon, soon after lunch- 
eon, Mary Gilchrist came out of the cabin 
alone. A short time before Mrs. Burton, 
Mrs. Graham and Marguerite Arnot had 
gone for a drive, the rough little pony they 
had been using earlier in the season was 
now transferred from the carriage to a 
sleigh. 

Ordinarily the Camp Fire guardian pre- 
ferred the girls not to go any distance away 
from Tahawus cabin alone. So, as she had 
found it difficult to secure a companion, 
Gill had no thought of being outdoors more 
than an hour. Fresh air and exercise were 
essential to her health and happiness. 

Sally, who first had been asked to accom- 
pany her, disliking the cold and none too 
fond of exercise, had pleaded the fact that 
she was busily engaged in preparing mince- 
meat for the approaching Christmas holi- 
days and desired to go on with her task. 


102 AT HALF MOON LAKE 


Bettina Graham, Gill preferred not to 
invite, believing that Bettina would surely 
decline. Alice Ashton and Vera were at 
work on their Christmas sewing and had 
a walk of several miles earlier in the day. 

Promising Sally to bring back any winter 
berries or evergreens she might discover, at 
three o’clock Gill set forth alone. She was 
dressed in a short skirt and a gray fur coat 
and cap and was wearing snowshoes. 

No snow had fallen for the past week and 
there was a hard layer of ice. The after- 
noon was cloudless and brilliant, the sky 
above the tree tops ravishingly blue. 

A number of paths led away from the 
door of the cabin and Gill started along one 
which came down to the edge of the lake. 
As the lake was frozen over, she followed 
I the line of the west shore for about half a 
mile, gliding along on the ice, her cheeks 
tingling, her eyes sparkling with the delight 
of the exercise and the exhilaration of the 
winter air. Not in some time had she felt 
so serene. These past few weeks for several 
reasons had been as uncomfortable ones as 
she ever cared to live through. Fortunately 
she always had believed in the value of an 


MIDWINTER 


103 


outdoor life to bring one to more cheerful 
views, even before her membership in the 
Camp Fire had emphasized this truth. 

Tiring of the smooth surface of the lake, 
at length Gill climbed a snowdrift to enter 
a balsam forest which seemed to cover only 
a small area before it opened into a clearing 
beyond. 

At no great distance from their own cabin, 
Gill had no recollection at the moment of 
this particular woods, perhaps because the 
winter afternoon gave it a new and strange 
aspect. 

She recognized that the trees were white 
pine, many of them fifty feet in height 
with drooping long branches and five- 
fingered leaf bunches. Beneath the trees 
the ground, soft with the needles at other 
seasons, was to-day hard and white as a 
marble bed. 

The arch of the trees formed a kind 
of natural temple with the opening beyond 
like a great rose window seen through the 
intervening space. 

As she approached the end of the vista 
Gill heard a noise which at first startled 
and later on puzzled and troubled her. 


104 AT HALF MOON LAKE 


The noise was like the barking of a dog in 
distress. She stood still, called and whistled 
only to have the sound cease and then 
begin again with a deeper note of suffering. 

Continuing her walk, but more slowly, 
Gill moved in the direction from which the 
barking came. In spite of what may have 
appeared to contradict this fact, actually 
she was more attached to animals than any 
one of the Camp Fire girls. Within another 
moment she had made a discovery. In a 
trap set by a hunter a small red fox had 
been caught but not killed. The barking 
to her ears had sounded like a dog’s. 

Notwithstanding its pain and terror and 
fear of human beings, it seemed to Gill the 
little animal turned its red-brown eyes 
toward her with an expression of appeal. 

Several seconds the girl stood frowning 
and puzzled, all her color flown and her 
lips trembling. Her own ignorance and 
cowardice formed the chief barrier. The 
little animal’s hind feet had been caught 
and nearly torn from the body, and yet she 
was unable to open the trap or to relieve 
the pain in any way, as she carried no 
weapon of any kind. 


MIDWINTER 


105 


Gill set her teeth. Why not walk on or, 
a better plan, return to the warmth and 
friendliness of the big cabin. Of a sudden 
she felt lonely and vaguely uneasy here in 
the silent woods, the silence broken only 
by the cry of a small animal in pain. Yet 
the pain could not continue indefinitely, 
and in any event she could soon be out of 
sight and hearing. 

Gill's eyes dropped toward the ground. 
Immediately in her path she beheld a heavy 
stick, from which the snow had blown away, 
leaving it exposed to her gaze. A second 
only she hesitated, then picking it up dis- 
covered that the end was round and thick 
as a bludgeon. She knew that her eye and 
her aim were unswerving, yet the prospect 
of a moment's swift action made her sick 
and faint. 

The next Gill lifted her cudgel. With a 
quick stroke between the eyes that were 
fastened half fearfully, half trustfully upon 
her own, the little creature's suffering was 
ended. 

Afterwards, absurd as it seemed to her, 
Gill could not walk on at once. Instead 
she leaned against a nearby tree, closing 


106 AT HALF MOON LAKE 


her eyes to avoid the spectacle before her. 
She could hunt without especial emotion or 
regret, when her aim was steady and there 
was no suggestion of long pain or suffering 
afterwards. But to kill, as she had felt 
herself forced to do in the last few moments, 
had upset her in the most acute fashion. 

Gill opened her eyes when she heard some 
one coming toward her. 

“You seem to appear only when I am in 
the act of taking a life, Mr. Drain, ” she 
exclaimed with poorly concealed bitterness, 
allowing her state of mind to find expression 
in the tone of her voice. “I am sorry to 
have you a witness to what I have just done 
and yet I felt it was unavoidable.” 

“You have only accomplished what I 
have been trying to find courage to do this 
last half hour, Miss Gilchrist. But you do 
look used up. My little cabin is not an 
eighth of a mile away, won’t you come in 
and rest for a moment? I am sure your 
friends will not object. I am fairly inti- 
mate with most of them except you. Some- 
how we never seem to meet when I am at 
Tahawus cabin.” 


CHAPTER IX 


The Poet’s Corner 
HE little pine house had only two 



rooms, one a small bed-room, the 


’ " other serving as kitchen, dining- 
room and living-room. As there was no 
furnace and a wood fire would afford insuf- 
ficient heat, an old-fashioned stove extended 
its stove pipe up the fireplace chimney. 

This stove, packed tight with small 
chunks of wood, was now red hot and on 
top a kettle was pouring forth a thin stream 
of steam. 

Allan Drain kneeled down. 

“You’ll allow me to take off your snow- 
shoes so you can be more comfortable? 
I envy you your skill in being able to 
manage them as I have been struggling 
for several weeks without success. Please 
don’t mind the small amount of snow you 
have brought into the room. I am not 
a particular housekeeper.” 

Gill glanced about the room. 


( 107 ) 


108 AT HALF MOON LAKE 


“I am not so sure. It seems to me you 
have arranged your room in a satisfactory 
and at the same time a picturesque fashion.” 

“Oh, my belongings are few and simple 
after the grandeur of your cabin. I only 
brought a bed and a table and a chair and 
some books along with me. Since, I have 
been lucky enough to get hold of a few 
possessions left behind in the North woods 
by fellows who once were in pretty much 
the same fix I am. I have made the rest 
of the furniture myself from the wood I 
bought at a lumber camp not far off. See 
that book shelf to the left of the mantle; it 
was given me by a backwood’s preacher, 
an old man who says it once belonged 
to Robert Louis Stevenson. You know 
Stevenson spent a winter in the Adiron- 
dacks for his health, don’t you? He and 
my old woodsman, who was a young fellow 
then, became friends.” 

Gill nodded, but not so impressed as her 
companion had expected and hoped. 

“Yes, I heard Mrs. Burton and Bettina 
Graham talking of the famous men and 
women who have lived in the Adirondack 
forests. Besides Stevenson there was a 


THE POET’S CORNER 109 


‘ Philosopher’s Camp’ with Emerson and 
James Russell Lowell and Professor Agassiz 
as members. Perhaps they may be an 
inspiration to you, but I cannot say I feel 
any deep interest. I told you I was not 
in the least literary and that I cared for 
the outdoors and not for books.” 

Whether or not she intended this, there 
was a slightly contemptuous note in the 
girl’s voice. 

Her companion, having removed her 
snowshoes, rose quickly with his face 
slightly flushed. 

“ You’ll have a cup of tea with me. The 
water is boiling so I can have it ready in 
a few minutes. It will warm you after 
your walk.” 

As Gill nodded acquiescence, quickly and 
deftly as a girl Allan Drain set about his 
preparations. 

His tea service consisted of a brown 
earthenware teapot, two cups and saucers, 
a cheap little pitcher and a silver sugar 
bowl of rare beauty, evidently an heirloom. 

He had placed on the table a pot of goose- 
berry jam and now undertook to make the 
toast by opening his stove door and toasting 
the bread at the end of a long fork. 


110 AT HALF MOON LAKE 


Offering no assistance, Gill sat watching, 
glancing sometimes at her host and as often 
at his surroundings. 

Truly he had revealed ingenuity and taste 
in his arrangements, in spite of the scarcity 
and poverty of his furnishings. In the first 
place, the room was clean, the floor swept, 
the books and furniture dusted. On the 
walls were several unframed sketches and 
photographs made by amateur artists, pic- 
tures of the North woods in summer or 
autumn beauty. Fastened alongside were 
the skins of a raccoon and a beaver; on the 
floor, although somewhat the worse for 
wear, a large bearskin rug. There were 
two chairs and a table of crude but not 
ugly workmanship. Gill discovered her- 
self enthroned in the solitary chair her host 
had brought with him for his lonely winter 
in the forest. 

“I should think you would have preferred 
to be at a hotel or a hospital for the winter 
if you are not well, ,, she volunteered a few 
moments later when her host had placed 
her chair in front of one of his tables where 
his little feast was spread. 

In spite of the fact that she was enjoying 


THE POET’S CORNER 111 


her tea, Gill found conversation difficult 
with an individual whose tastes and point 
of view were so unlike her own. 

“I should think you would be desperately 
lonely here; you see it is different with us, 
there are so many of us and we are accus- 
tomed to being together.” 

As Allan Drain lifted the teapot his long, 
slender hand shook slightly. 

“ Why, yes, I am often lonely,” he agreed. 
“It would be absurd for me to deny it. I 
live in this fashion rather than in a hotel 
or boarding house because it is much 
cheaper. My people have no money to 
spare and the uncle who has been paying 
for my education as a surgeon is annoyed 
at my break-down. He declares that if I 
were less antagonistic to my work I would 
never have gone to pieces. In fact, he 
thinks I am enjoying myself living alone 
in the woods with an opportunity to write 
poetry and dream, which is all he believes 
I care for, and he is not so far from right. 
I know you will have a contempt for me, 
but I tried my best to make up my mind 
to do what you managed to accomplish 
in a few seconds, relieve a little animal from 


112 AT HALF MOON LAKE 


pain. If I had not the nerve or the cour- 
age to be of help to an animal, what do 
you think of my chance of being of service 
to human beings?” 

“I don’t think you will be of any use at 
all,” Gill answered abruptly, and then it 
was her turn to flush, not because it troubled 
her that she may have wounded her com- 
panion, but because she had been uncom- 
fortably conscious of the abruptness and 
awkwardness of her manner ever since her 
interview with Mrs. Graham. This was 
only a fresh instance of her lack of poise 
and tact, which seemed so conspicuous in 
Mrs. Graham and Bettina and which she 
so admired. 

In spite of his courtesy and kindness at 
the present time, Gill was still convinced 
that she did not like Allan Drain and could 
never like him under any circumstances. 
The antagonism of their first meeting was 
only asleep and might wake again at any 
moment. Surely he must like her even less 
and with better reason. This afternoon he 
was only returning the hospitality he had 
received from other members of her own 
Camp Fire group. 


THE POET’S CORNER 113 


When her host arose to replenish the fire 
Gill studied him closely. She was again 
positive that she did not care for his appear- 
ance. The yellow hair bronzed by the sun 
until it was nearly the color of a lion’s mane 
was worn too long, the figure was too slender 
and without sufficient force, the broad 
shoulders stooped. Yet perhaps he was 
not so effeminate in appearance as she 
originally had thought; the effect was rather 
due to delicacy. 

Selfishly Gill uttered an inward breath of 
thankfulness, grateful for her own perfect 
health. Never had she felt more vigorous 
than to-day. Already she was growing 
tired of the little room and her host and 
anxious to return home. 

“Well, I am sure you must find a great 
deal to keep you busy. Thank you for 
asking me to see your house. I must say 
good-by now and hurry back to the cabin. 
I am afraid it is growing late.” 

Insisting on adjusting her own snow- 
shoes, Gill stood at the door of the cabin 
with her back to the wall, smiling her 
farewell. 

If her opinion of Allan Drain had not 


114 AT HALF MOON LAKE 


altered, his impression of her had slightly 
changed. This afternoon he did not so 
much dislike her half boyish appearance, 
the bobbed hair of a bright auburn color, 
the short nose and wide mouth with the 
white, firm teeth. 

“ I am sorry to have you go. I would walk 
back with you to Tahawus cabin with 
pleasure, but as I cannot manage my snow- 
shoes without half a dozen headers I should 
only bore and delay you. Mrs. Graham 
and Mrs. Burton have been good enough 
to say I may come and share in your Christ- 
mas festivities. You are expecting many 
guests, aren’t you? The time is not far off 
and I shall try to keep so busy with my 
writing that the days will fly until then.” 

“Do you mean that you are re-writing 
the verses that were lost at our cabin? I 
suppose they will be all the better for the 
added work,” Gill said hastily and in a tone 
of relief. 

“Oh, no, not the poor old verses over 
again !” her companion returned. “ I haven’t 
the courage, besides the fates must have 
known they were of no value and spared 
me the task of making away with them. 


THE POET’S CORNER 115 


I know it is ridiculous of me, but actually 
I am attempting to write a play. Mrs. 
Burton suggested the idea when we were 
talking together, although she is unaware 
of the fact. I know it will amount to 
nothing, so please keep my secret. I don’t 
know why I should have mentioned it to 
you, except that I have not seen another 
human being for two days. Well, good-by 
if you must go, and thank you for your 
visit. My best wishes to Tahawus cabin.” 


CHAPTER X 


Holiday Guests 


RANGEMENTS at Tahawus cabin 



were to be readjusted to meet the 


^ approach of Christmas guests, es- 
pecially as the household was a strictly 
feminine one and a number of the guests 
were masculine. 

Captain Burton would come up from 
Washington city to be with his wife for a 
few days, if not the entire length of the 
holiday. 

Dan Webster with his mother and sister, 
Peggy, intended spending several weeks. 
Mrs. Webster had been unable to see her 
sister except for a few days since her return 
from Europe. Peggy Webster desired a 
rest and a farewell holiday with her group 
of Camp Fire girls before her marriage to 
Ralph Merritt. Therefore Ralph was to be 
a few days at the cabin but was not to 
remain the entire length of Peggy’s stay. 

A third visitor, who had not the excuse 


( 116 ) 


HOLIDAY GUESTS 


117 


of family relationship, was David Hale, a 
young American whom the Camp Fire girls 
met originally in France during the days of 
the Peace Conference.* 

At that time he had been an especial 
friend of Bettina Graham’s and of the 
French girl, Marguerite Arnot, but later 
on both girls had lost sight of him, since 
Bettina only answered his letters occasion- 
ally and he had never written Marguerite. 

However, he had returned to the United 
States with the closing of his work as 
secretary to a prominent member of the 
Peace Council and since had lived in 
Washington city. 

Through a note of introduction from 
Bettina he had met her mother and father, 
and he and Mrs. Graham had become fast 
friends. Indeed, for a number of years 
Betty Graham had held a small court of 
young men about her in Washington, to 
whom she represented their ideal of what 
a gracious and beautiful woman should be. 
The situation always had amused her 
husband and friends, and Bettina openly 
declared that she cherished not the faintest 

* See “Camp Fire Girls in Glorious France.” 


118 AT HALF MOON LAKE 


hope of becoming her mother’s rival. As 
a matter of fact, she was not especially 
popular. So she was scarcely surprised, 
and not in the least annoyed, upon arriving 
at the conclusion that her mother had 
supplanted her in David Hale’s friendship. 
True, she had liked him in France, where 
they seemed to have many points of con- 
geniality! But some little time had passed 
since then and other interests had interfered 
with her original impression. Nevertheless, 
she was glad to accept her mother’s sug- 
gestion that they ask David Hale to make 
one of their Christmas house party. The 
other girls had liked him, Miss Patricia 
had treated him with marked favor, and 
there was little doubt that he would add 
to everybody’s pleasure. 

Now and then Bettina had wondered if 
Marguerite Arnot were homesick or regret- 
ted leaving her own country for the United 
States. True, she had said nothing to 
suggest this, yet she was as reserved as 
Bettina herself! Moreover, so far she had 
not in any way been thrown upon her own 
resources, part of her time in America she 
had spent with her mother and herself 


HOLIDAY GUESTS 


119 


and the rest with Miss Patricia Lord. 
After the Camp Fire winter was over her 
future was less assured unless she should 
choose to remain in Washington city with 
them. Undoubtedly Marguerite had proved 
extremely useful to her mother with her 
pretty, quiet manner and her gift for sew- 
ing. Yet her position in their household 
had been a little difficult, due more to 
Marguerite’s shyness and her refusal to 
take part in the social life of Washington 
as their friend, which was the position she 
and her mother both wished Marguerite 
to accept. 

So Bettina, recalling the fact that Mar- 
guerite Arnot had in her quiet fashion 
displayed pleasure in David Hale’s acquaint- 
ance, regarded this as another reason to be 
pleased with his appearance at the Christ- 
mas house party. During the weeks she 
and Marguerite were in Washington city, 
they had been able to see David Hale only 
once, as he chanced to be west at the time 
on official business. 

Never before had Bettina thought of 
herself in the light of a matchmaker, so, 
secretly, she was amused by her present 


120 AT HALF MOON LAKE 


point of view. Marguerite Arnot and 
David Hale were her friends and one 
always possessed the right to wish happiness 
for one’s friends. Now the Adirondack 
woods in their winter cloak were like fairy- 
land, so wonderful that Bettina, had she 
not been sure she was proof against romance, 
must have felt their romantic influence. 
She did feel their inspiration and their 
beauty every hour of the day. But Bettina 
had arranged a future for herself in which 
an ordinary romance played no part, and 
by ordinary romance she meant the eternal 
romance of youth. 

Dr. and Mrs. Ashton, Alice’s and Sally’s 
parents, were to arrive from Boston, bring- 
ing with them a distant cousin, a youth of 
about nineteen or twenty whom neither 
girl had seen in a number of years. 

One change in their household arrange- 
ments upon which the Camp Fire guardian 
and Mrs. Graham both insisted was that 
during the holiday season some one be 
secured to assist with the domestic work, 
else with so many additional people to be 
cared for, the girls would be worn out and 
have little time for pleasure. 


HOLIDAY GUESTS 


121 


Mrs. Burton had another reason which 
she did not choose to make public. She 
dreaded the added strain upon Miss Patri- 
cia, who in spite of her wonderful vigor and 
energy would doubtless wear herself to the 
breaking point and be extremely difficult 
in consequence. At the close of her recon- 
struction work in France to which she had 
devoted herself she had reached England in 
a state of nervous and physical exhaustion. 
However, after a few weeks of travel and 
rest she had entirely recovered. Notwith- 
standing, Mrs. Burton could not refrain 
from worrying over Miss Patricia’s unfail- 
ing care of her, in which she seemed unwill- 
ing to allow any one else to share. Any 
human being with less tact than Mrs. 
Graham would long since have met with 
Miss Patricia’s disapproval. She did man- 
age, however, to spend several hours each 
day with her friend without incurring Miss 
Patricia’s anger, and in small ways, never 
in more important ones, to relieve the older 
woman’s constant vigilance. As a matter 
of fact, Betty Graham was a decided 
favorite with Aunt Patricia and had been 
for a number of years. Many times she 


122 AT HALF MOON LAKE 


was heard to announce that she wished 
Polly Burton were possessed of an equal 
amount of sweetness and good judgment. 
Moreover, Miss Patricia really recognized 
the claim of the friendship older than her 
own, and although now and then suffering 
twinges of jealousy, usually kept them to 
herself. 

Yet even Aunt Patricia had not pro- 
tested against the instalment of some one 
to help with the Christmas festivities, 
provided a suitable person could be dis- 
covered. And the good fortune in the 
situation was that Miss Patricia made the 
discovery herself. 

David Murray, who helped with the 
outside work and cared for the furnace, 
was an old bachelor living in a small cabin 
a mile or more away and yet the closest 
neighbor to the Camp Fire girls. 

Old David was as much of a character 
in his way as Miss Patricia in hers, disliking 
the feminine sex with greater intensity than 
Miss Patricia bestowed upon his, as Miss 
Patricia’s dislike of men never had been 
satisfactorily proven save by her spinster- 
hood. 


HOLIDAY GUESTS 


123 


Some time before David had confided 
to Miss Patricia that a letter from his half 
sister, Elspeth, had informed him of the 
fact that she was tired of “working out” 
and was coming to live with him. He did 
not wish her society and had stated the 
fact plainly. 

“Yet knowin’ the ways of women, Miss 
Pat-ricia, if she has made up her mind to 
it, she’ll come. She knows a man can’t 
set a woman outside his door to freeze 
weather like this even if he has a mind to.” 

A few weeks later with all her possessions 
Elspeth arrived and finding her brother 
away, had pushed open the door. There 
she was upon his return making herself 
thoroughly at home. 

However, the cottage was small and 
David was “dour”, so Elspeth was soon 
willing to make friends with the Camp Fire 
girls and to agree to come and live with 
them at Christmas time. She and Miss 
Patricia were even a little alike, since one 
was of Scotch descent and the other Irish. 
Miss Patricia promised to leave the cooking 
and housekeeping to Elspeth and the Camp 
Fire girls, so long as nothing interfered with 


124 AT HALF MOON LAKE 


her care of Mrs. Burton, which, after all, con- 
sisted largely in seeing that she ate and slept 
more than she wished and was in the fresh 
air whenever it was possible. 

Mrs. Burton had pleaded for a little more 
freedom during the holidays and had her 
request denied with the threat that the 
house party itself should be abandoned 
unless she agreed to follow her usual 
regime. 

So the big cabin before the arrival of the 
Christmas guests was filled with the odors 
of cooking and Cleaning and the smell of 
evergreens. 

The arrangement was that the married 
people and Camp Fire girls should live in 
the big house and the smallest of the cabins 
and the other be devoted to Dan Webster, 
David Hale, and Philip Stead, the unknown 
cousin of Alice and Sally Ashton. 

Mrs. Graham had suggested that Allan 
Drain be invited to spend a few days at 
the cabin rather than be forced to return 
to his own home when he was sharing their 
amusements. But as no one had met the 
proposal with any enthusiasm she had said 
nothing more. Her own desire was to make 


HOLIDAY GUESTS 


125 


up to the young fellow in any possible way 
for the loss for which she felt increasingly 
responsible. 

Captain Burton was to arrive before any 
other member of the house party. Instead 
of trusting to an automobile or a sleigh that 
might be had at Saranac, the nearest village, 
old David drove over to meet his train, due 
at about five o’clock in the afternoon. 

At six o’clock every light in Tahawus 
cabin was burning brightly, a fire in the liv- 
ing-room roared and crackled like imprisoned 
music, dinner was in fullest preparation. 

In the drawing-room Mrs. Burton, Mrs. 
Graham and Miss Patricia were dressed and 
waiting with every now and then one of 
the Camp Fire girls flitting in and out with 
a question or a piece of information. A 
dew days later and the cabin would be over- 
flowing with guests. For this reason the 
Camp Fire guardian had wished her hus- 
band to appear before any one else. 

Between half-past six and seven he could 
be looked for at the cabin, as the drive from 
Saranac occupied something more than an 
hour. 

But at seven o’clock Captain Burton had 


126 AT HALF MOON LAKE 


not come; at half-past seven Miss Patricia 
insisted that dinner be served and Captain 
Burton’s set aside. At eight o’clock she 
demanded that Mrs. Burton go to her room 
and lie down. Undoubtedly Captain Bur- 
ton’s train had been delayed. Evidently 
David was still awaiting him. 

After half an hour of protest, as Miss 
Patricia remained firm and Mrs. Graham 
added her persuasions to Aunt Patricia’s 
commands, the Camp Fire guardian finally 
did retire, appreciating that she would be 
in a better state to receive her husband 
and wishing him to see at once how much 
she had improved. 

A little after nine it chanced that the 
half dozen Camp Fire girls were in the living- 
room alone, Bettina playing softly on the 
piano and Chitty imitating the notes with 
her flute-like voice, when they heard the 
noise of David and the sleigh approaching. 

Fearing that their Camp Fire guardian 
might be disappointed in case something 
had prevented Captain Burton’s arrival, 
Bettina and Alice Ashton ran into the hall 
opening the door before there was an out- 
side noise. 


HOLIDAY GUESTS 


127 


The next moment Captain Burton strode 
in. He was not alone; accompanying him 
was a girl wrapped in a shabby gray cloak 
and with a warm scarf tied about her head 
partly concealing her face. 

“Where is Polly? I must see her at once. 
We had a wreck on the road and a storm 
also delayed us. Bettina, will you and 
Alice please look after Miss Temple, Juliet 
Temple, and persuade her to eat dinner and 
go to bed. I’ll introduce you to each other 
more satisfactorily in the morning.” 

If Bettina and Alice were startled and 
none too pleased by an unexpected guest 
under the present conditions, they were too 
kind to show their attitude, observing that 
the strange girl looked completely ex- 
hausted. 


CHAPTER XI 


Juliet Temple 

**T^UT, my dear, do you think this 
the proper time to introduce a 
stranger into our household?” 

Mrs. Burton and Captain Burton were 
walking up and down outside Tahawus 
cabin the following morning. Wearing a 
sealskin coat and a small fur hat and muff, 
little was visible except Mrs. Burton’s eyes 
and the brilliant color in her cheeks wrought 
by the still, clear cold. 

Captain Burton, who was a good deal 
older, was a middle-aged man with iron- 
gray hair and dark eyes; a handsome, erect 
figure, considerably taller than his com- 
panion. 

“Why, no, I suppose not, Polly,” he 
returned, “but I explained to you the cir- 
cumstances were exceptional. Here was a 
girl who had been living in the same board- 
ing place with me, to whom I had been 
saying good-morning and good-evening for 
( 128 ) 


JULIET TEMPLE 


129 


a number of weeks and now and then 
stopping to talk for a few moments, sud- 
denly turned out into the world with no 
money and apparently no friends whom 
she could ask to aid her. I believe she has 
friends, but preferred being independent. 
Had I not assured her you were greatly in 
need of some one, she would not have come 
to you. She was careful to tell me that 
although she had studied nursing a short 
time, she was not a professional nurse, 
having given up her studies in order to take 
a position in Washington during the war, 
being in need of funds and unable to wait 
for her graduation. 

I convinced her that you were not so ill 
as to require professional care, but required 
some one to wait upon you, prepare special 
dishes and write letters. In fact, I even 
told her that a part of her work would be 
that of a maid, but that I was sure you 
would be extremely kind and that living 
with you was a pleasure, Polly, under 
almost any conditions.” 

Mrs. Burton laughed. 

“That was very kind of you, dear, but 
scarcely true. I have an idea that Miss 


130 AT HALF MOON LAKE 


Temple will form a different impression of 
my character as an invalid if she overhears 
Aunt Patricia’s report of me. Besides, 
Richard, don’t you realize that Aunt Patri- 
cia will never permit Miss Temple to usurp 
her duties, which seem to consist in forcing 
me to eat more food and sleep a greater num- 
ber of hours than any human being reason- 
ably can manage. As for the other tasks, 
which I am perfectly well able to accomplish 
for myself, there are half a dozen of the Camp 
Fire girls more than willing to do whatever 
I ask. Then there is my beloved Betty 
Graham whom I have not seen intimately 
in a number of years. We have made a 
secret arrangement by which she pretends 
to be acting as my secretary in order that 
we may have a few quiet hours together. 
As I do not write a dozen letters a week and 
ordinarily write them myself, Betty does 
not find her duties arduous. Really I do 
not see what Miss Temple is to do for me 
or for any one else. I am sorry for her of 
course, but just at present the cabin is to 
be unusually crowded. If the girl has no 
money I suppose we must see that she is 
able to board somewhere for a time, 


JULIET TEMPLE 


131 


although we haven't a great deal of money 
ourselves these days, have we? 

“I do wish Aunt Patricia were not so 
generous. It is ridiculous for me to be living 
in this state! Please don't let her find out 
we must help Miss Temple until she is able 
to secure work. She would then insist 
upon undertaking the responsibility, besides 
being immensely aggrieved at our having 
thought of it. Her one idea is that I shall 
have no reason to say I must go back to 
work in order to help restore our fortunes. 
Aunt Patricia seems to object to every- 
thing in connection with the stage these 
days, when once upon a time she loved it 
dearly." 

“But, Polly, Miss Temple will not accept 
money. I offered to lend her a small 
amount which she could repay when she 
chose, but she declared that I was a com- 
parative stranger, and if she were forced 
to borrow money had best apply to some 
one who had known her longer and more 
intimately. 

“What I don't understand is why you 
wrote me that you and Aunt Patricia were 
greatly in need of some one and that you 


132 AT HALF MOON LAKE 


were much worried over Aunt Patricia’s 
breaking down. I have had this in mind 
some time and been worried. Women are so 
extraordinarily inconsistent!” 

“Yes, and men so extraordinarily dull 
sometimes, my dear. I plead guilty; I did 
write you what you accuse me of, but that 
was months ago when Aunt Patricia and I 
were living here alone. Since then, as you 
know, our household has changed com- 
pletely. Betty is here and all the Camp 
Fire girls, and we even have a jewel of a 
cook, Elspeth. You must talk to her. 
Her people have lived in the Adirondacks 
for years and yet she still has a trace of a 
Scotch accent and uses Scotch words now 
and then.” 

“Very well, as I know Miss Temple and 
you do not, I presume I had best try to 
explain the situation. But I must say I 
am disappointed. I thought you were 
particularly sympathetic with young girls, 
Polly, after your experience as a Camp Fire 
guardian. As far as I know Juliet Temple 
is a charming girl and I see no reason why 
she cannot be made a member of your 
Sunrise Camp Fire club. 


JULIET TEMPLE 


133 


Long ago Polly O’Neill had been fairly 
well known among her family and friends 
for her quick temper, but the years and 
life’s discipline had taught her a measure 
of self-control. 

She flushed now and bit her lips. 

“ Richard, you are not fair,” she said 
finally. “I do care for girls and I am sorry 
for this Miss Temple. But I cannot under- 
take to rescue every girl who is in a dif- 
ficulty. And as for making her a member 
of our Camp Fire, I do wish you would try 
to understand something of the Camp Fire 
organization. The guardian does not select 
the members of a Camp Fire club. She 
may suggest a girl, but the choice really 
rests with the other girls. I should never 
think of asking my group of girls to include 
any one who is a stranger and might be 
wholly uncongenial. Besides, there are 
certain tests before any girl can join the 
Camp Fire. How old is this Juliet Temple?” 

“Only eighteen, I believe. She wishes 
to be thought older; has been forced to 
give the impression because of being obliged 
to earn her living.” 

Not liking the suggestion of deceit and 


134 AT HALF MOON LAKE 


not having been attracted toward the new- 
comer at their single brief meeting earlier 
in the day, Mrs. Burton continued her walk, 
saying nothing more. 

Finally she laid her hand on her husband’s 
coat sleeve. 

“ Let’s not quarrel, dear, when we have 
not been together in so long a time. I shall 
never be able to like your Miss Temple if 
she has made you angry with me.” 

“Nonsense, but here comes Aunt Patricia 
and I will ask her advice, Polly. She is 
the greatest trump in the world and I owe 
her more than I shall ever owe anyone for 
her devotion to you.” 

As Miss Patricia approached she was 
seen to be wearing a heavy, long black coat 
and a soft gray felt hat belonging to one of 
the Camp Fire girls which, perched on top 
of her head, gave her a rakish appearance. 

Expecting to be ordered indoors, Mrs. 
Burton observed that Miss Patricia was in 
a particularly softened mood, due probably 
to the arrival of Captain Burton, to whom 
she was devoted. 

“Polly is looking better, don’t you think, 
Richard? Yet it has been very difficult to 
persuade her to do the things she should.” 


JULIET TEMPLE 


135 


Mrs. Burton slipped an arm through 
Miss Patricia’s. Captain Burton took her 
other arm and the three continued to 
promenade. 

“ Absurd, Aunt Patricia, I have been a 
perfect invalid! Some day you are going 
to be sorry for all the unkind things you 
say about me! I wish you would not just 
at present, because Richard probably will 
agree with you.” 

Miss Patricia studied her two friends 
closely. 

“Polly is not to be worried, Richard,” 
she said finally. 

The younger woman laughed. 

“See, one can make anything useful, 
even ill health! Aunt Patricia, we have 
not quarreled seriously. Our difficulty 
concerns the girl, Juliet Temple, whom 
Richard brought to us last evening. I don’t 
see just how she is to fit into our household 
under the present circumstances, while 
Richard has a different point of view.” 

“Yes,” said Richard, “and I appeal to 
you, Aunt Patricia. After all, Tahawus 
cabin belongs to you and not to Polly. 
Here I have been attempting to play knight- 


136 AT HALF MOON LAKE 


errant and my wife declines to uphold me. 
A sorry knight-errant indeed!” 

Five minutes later Miss Patricia was 
saying conclusively: 

“The girl shall stay here through the 
Christmas holidays. No one shall be 
without a home and friends at such a 
season. It will be difficult I know, Polly 
dear, but if you will talk to the Camp Fire 
girls they will be kinder to Miss Temple 
than any request from me could make them. 
Strange as it may seem to you, Richard, 
the Camp Fire girls are devoted to Polly 
and she has an extraordinary influence over 
them all. But Polly is quite right, we 
cannot consider asking the girl to become 
a member of our Camp Fire until we dis- 
cover whether or not the other girls like 
and approve of her. You seem to know 
singularly little concerning your own pro- 
tegee, sir.” 

Mrs. Burton’s laughter held a note of 
teasing, as Aunt Patricia’s directness was 
always amusing unless one chanced to be 
the victim. 

Yes, well, perhaps that is true, but she 
comes of excellent family, I believe.” 


JULIET TEMPLE 


137 


“I care little about family, the question 
is of the girl herself. Remember, I was a 
poor Irish girl until my brother left me 
his fortune, and have no aristocratic lean- 
ings. Polly and I will leave you and talk 
to the girl herself. I have little opinion of 
a man’s judgment in such a case. 

“What is the matter with Richard, 
Polly, he looks worried?” Miss Patricia 
demanded as they moved away. “Is it 
a question of money?” 

Mrs. Burton shook her head. 

“I don’t think so, Aunt Patricia, at least 
he said nothing to me.” 

Inside the cabin the Camp Fire girls were 
not visible at the present time. Several of 
them were engaged with final Christmas 
preparations, the others had gone for a 
walk with Betty Graham. 

Inside the living-room, sitting alone by 
the fire, was the solitary girl who had ap- 
peared so unceremoniously the evening 
before. 

She was crouched on the floor upon a 
low stool looking in the flames when Mrs. 
Burton and Miss Lord entered, but rose 
up hastily. 


138 AT HALF MOON LAKE 


Unusually tall, although not so tall as 
Miss Patricia, Juliet Temple had ash- 
colored brown hair and gray eyes and a 
shy, almost colorless manner. 

“I am sorry to have intruded upon you 
in this fashion, Mrs. Burton,” she began. 
“I suddenly lost my position in Washington 
and Captain Burton was so kind, I did not 
altogether realize what I was doing in 
coming to you like this. Now I can see 
that you can have no possible use for me 
with so many girls about you. If you will 
be kind enough to have some one drive me 
back to the village I shall not trouble you 
further.” 

Mrs. Burton putTout her hand toward 
the unknown visitor in a friendly fashion. 

“You will stay with us a few days in any 
case, won’t you, Miss Temple?” Perhaps 
after all you may be able to do something 
for me, or for all of us. Who knows? 
But in any event you must not think of 
leaving us until we know that you go to 
friends, where you will be happy. Was 
there, by chance, anything beside the loss 
of your position that made you wish to 
leave Washington at once?” 


JULIET TEMPLE 


139 


The girl hesitated and then spoke quickly: 

“Yes, there was a reason. May I tell 
you what it was before you decide to allow 
me to stay with you even a short time?” 

The girl's colorless face flushed warmly 
and her listless manner so altered that Miss 
Patricia stared at her in surprise. In 
another moment she became convinced 
that the newcomer had taken a sudden 
intense fancy to Mrs. Burton. She had 
seen this same thing occur before. More- 
over, she doubtless had some romantic 
story that it pleased her to think of con- 
fiding to so famous a woman as Mrs. Burton. 

Miss Patricia straightway left the room. 

The instant after Juliet Temple stood 
facing her companion. 

“Mrs. Burton, allow me to tell you at 
once, while I have the courage. I could 
not explain to Captain Burton, I did not 
feel I could to any human being until I 
met you. I was accused of having stolen 
a small sum of money from the department 
at which I was at work in Washington. It 
was not true and yet I have only my word 
to give you. My father was an army man 
and a distinguished officer during the Span- 


140 AT HALF MOON LAKE 


ish war, so for his sake and because the 
sum was small I was dismissed from my 
position instead of being prosecuted. You 
can see now why I did not wish to appeal 
to friends to whom I would have felt I must 
make this same confession.” 

The girl’s expression scarcely altered 
save that she became a shade paler and 
the lines about her mouth deepened. 

“Why would it not have been wiser to 
have remained in Washington and proved 
your innocence?” Mrs. Burton inquired, 
frowning a trifle and wondering why her 
antagonism toward the girl had lessened 
rather than been increased by her story. 

Juliet Temple gave a despairing shrug 
to her shoulders. 

“It would have been useless, I would not 
have been permitted to continue at my 
work. I could not have lived on in Wash- 
ington without money. I have but little 
hope that I shall ever be cleared, yet if you 
think I am guilty, and you have no reason 
to believe otherwise, you must let me go 
away at once, this afternoon.” 

Mrs. Burton shook her head. 

“No, I really wish you to stay, and I did 


JULIET TEMPLE 


141 


not until this moment. At least you must 
remain for a time until we learn to know 
whether we like and trust each other.” 

Mrs. Burton held out her hand a second 
time and Juliet Temple touched her lips 
to it without replying. 


CHAPTER XII 


Friends That Were 
OWARD noon the next day the half 



dozen other guests arrived; leaving 


only Ralph Merritt to follow later. 
He was not expected until Christmas eve, 
so affording Peggy Webster a few days 
with her family and friends. 

Immediately upon her arrival the Camp 
Fire girls formed a circle about her and as 
soon as possible bore her off to a room in 
one of the smaller cabins devoted exclu- 
sively to their use. 

This room was known as “The Study”. 
Formerly it had been the living-room in the 
smaller house, but at present was lined with 
books and filled with Camp Fire trophies, 
baskets, embroidery, sofa cushions, odd 
pieces of weaving, and the Camp Fire 
photographs depicting their various expe- 
riences, which the girls always carried with 
them. 

After the midday dinner the older guests 


( 142 ) 


FRIENDS THAT WERE 143 


continued to sit about the big fire in the 
living-room. David Hale, Dan Webster 
and Philip Stead were invited to entertain 
themselves for a short time without their 
hostesses. 

It was a little past two o’clock when 
Sally Ashton, who had been sitting curled 
up on a corner of a sofa, not talking so 
much as her companions, suddenly re- 
marked: 

“ Don’t you think we might spare Peggy 
any more questions for this one afternoon? 
Whether she will confess to it or not, she 
is looking tired. Besides, I feel that we 
should pay more attention to our other 
visitors. I do not mean mother and father, 
I am thinking of ” 

Greeted by an outburst of laughter, 
Sally appeared mystified. 

“No, Sally dear, think not that we 
expect you to be interested in the enter- 
tainment of mere parents! The other 
visitors you refer to are masculine. Well, 
as they usually are attentive to you, after 
all there is no reason why you should not 
return the compliment.” 

“Neither is there any reason why you 


144 AT HALF MOON LAKE 


should be so tiresome, Alice. I was only 
going to propose that we go for a walk 
before tea-time. The afternoon is clear 
and there always is the possibility of a snow 
storm by to-morrow. Perhaps in spite of 
Alice’s sarcasm, father and Captain Burton 
may be induced to join us; the others 
won’t, I know.” 

Peggy Webster, who had been sitting on 
a pile of Camp Fire sofa cushions, got up 
immediately. 

“ Sally, you always were the most sen- 
sible one of us and I should enjoy a walk. 
There were so many hours of sitting still on 
the train. Besides, I agree with you that 
we should no longer neglect Dan or Philip 
Stead or Mr. Hale. Ralph is not here, 
but I intend to help defend his sex.” 

Peggy Webster, who w T as about nineteen 
years old, was dark and vivid with a brilliant 
color, full crimson lips, black hair and eyes 
which of late had grown gentler in their 
expression. Perhaps the most popular of 
the younger group of Sunrise Camp Fire 
girls, Peggy always had been singularly 
sincere and courageous, besides possessing 
the vitality which in itself is so magnetic. 


FRIENDS THAT WERE 145 


To-day, studying Peggy Webster closely, 
Mary Gilchrist felt a mingled sensation of 
admiration and envy. There were certain 
traits of character which she and Peggy 
held in common, and in a way Gill cherished 
the hope that she might fill Peggy’s place 
in their Camp Fire now that Peggy was so 
soon to marry and leave them. Yet there 
was also a fundamental difference between 
them that Gill knew ever must stand in 
her way, unless she were able to conquer it. 

“I see no reason for wasting time in teas- 
ing Sally. I consider that she has made 
and extremely agreeable suggestion,” Gill 
protested. 

Half an hour later, Peggy Webster, 
Bettina Graham, Mary Gilchrist, Mar- 
guerite Arnot, Sally and Alice Ashton and 
the small English girl, Chitty, who rarely 
left Bettina Graham’s side when it was 
possible to be with her, set out, leaving 
Vera Lagerloff to entertain Juliet Temple, 
the girl who had come to the cabin so unex- 
pectedly, but concerning whose history 
an character they had no knowledge. 

To Mary Gilchrist’s annoyance Allan 
Drain had joined their three young men 


10 


146 AT HALF MOON LAKE 


guests, but she need not have troubled. 
He attached himself to Bettina and Chitty 
after a polite greeting to her, as soon as 
they set out on their expedition. 

In a walk composed of a large group of 
people, the arrangement in the beginning 
is apt to be haphazard, controlled more 
by chance than choice. 

Personally Bettina was glad that Allan 
Drain seemed interested to walk beside 
her, since this left David Hale free to be 
with Marguerite Arnot. Otherwise his 
sense of duty might have impelled him to 
be attentive to her. He had come to the 
cabin at her mother’s invitation. Bettina 
was convinced that he would find more 
pleasure in Marguerite’s company and that 
they would be glad to talk over the past 
year in France. 

The walk was not to be of great length, 
Mary Gilchrist having proposed that they 
go to a low, cleared hill about a mile away 
on the far side of Half Moon Lake for their 
first toboggan ride. 

One of Miss Patricia’s gifts, sent down 
from Canada, had been a toboggan capable 
of carrying eight persons. But to the 


FRIENDS THAT WERE 147 


Camp Fire girls’ chagrin Mrs. Burton had 
been unwilling to have them make use of 
it until they had a masculine escort. Absurd 
as her point of view appeared to several of 
the more independent members of her 
group of Camp Fire girls, no one had 
appealed from her decision. 

This afternoon, moving swiftly ahead 
on snow shoes, Mary Gilchrist and Dan 
Webster dragged the great sleigh, leaving 
the others to follow as swiftly as possible. 
No one of the others had acquired Gill’s 
skill in the management of snow' shoes save 
Dan Webster who had been brought up 
on a New Hampshire farm and was a 
trained athlete. 

“Gill and Dan look very handsome 
together, don’t they?” Alice Ashton re- 
marked. Tall and intellectual and not 
especially good looking, Alice Ashton was 
far from possessing her younger sister 
Sally’s popularity with men of all ages. 
But at present she and Sally were walking 
with their distant cousin, Philip Stead, 
between them and, as Sally was not making 
the faintest effort to entertain him, Alice 
felt compelled to assume the responsibility. 


148 AT HALF MOON LAKE 


What was the difficulty with Sally? The 
suggestion that they go for a walk had 
been her own, and yet at present she looked 
as uncomfortable and annoyed as Sally 
ever permitted herself to appear. Undoubt- 
edly she must be angry or troubled by some 
recent occurrence. Alice did not consider 
that this offered a sufficient excuse for 
Sally’s entire lack of interest. 

The new cousin, Philip Stead, might 
have been an inanimate object walking 
between them. 

Sally looked extremely pretty, with more 
color than usual, due to the sharp cold. 
She was wearing Mrs. Burton’s old seal- 
skin coat and cap, Aunt Patricia having 
presented the Camp Fire guardian with 
handsomer ones at the beginning of the 
winter in the Adirondacks. And Sally’s 
eyes and hair were nearly of the same shade 
and softness as the brown furs. Notwith- 
standing, she was frowning and her lips 
had a pouting, sullen look like a disap- 
pointed child’s. 

Not appreciating the reason Alice was 
puzzled and at the same time grateful that 
the new cousin did not appear disturbed 


FRIENDS THAT WERE 149 


by Sally’s indifference, but sufficiently inter- 
ested in her to make the task of amusing 
him simpler than she had imagined possible. 

Alice was right. Sally was annoyed, she 
was even unhappy, although she would 
scarcely have agreed to this. 

During the entire winter at Half Moon 
Lake had she not been looking forward 
almost daily to Dan Webster’s visit at 
Christmas time? Since their parting in 
France she and Dan had written each other 
occasionally, but neither of them wrote 
especially well, so that the letters were 
not very satisfactory. 

Well, Dan had arrived and so far they 
had exchanged exactly eight words, the 
self-same words, save for the interchange 
of names: “ Hello, Sally, I am glad to see 
you,” and her own reply with no more 
warmth or originality. 

To herself at any rate she could confess 
that she had proposed a walk in order that 
she and Dan might have a brief time to- 
gether without half a dozen or more persons 
surrounding them. If Dan only had made 
an effort to walk beside her they might 
easily have arranged to drop a few paces 
behind the others. 


150 AT HALF MOON LAKE 


But Dan had made no such effort and 
apparently had no such thought. Already 
he and Mary Gilchrist were speeding on 
an eighth of a mile ahead, Mary’s golden 
scarf and Dan’s blue one, whipped by the 
wind, were like gay pennants urging the 
stragglers to follow. 

But Sally could not walk rapidly on the 
icy ground and already was out of breath. 
Neither had she any interest in the arrival 
at the summit of the hill, since the thought 
of the tobogganing terrified her and she 
had no wish to confess the fact. 

Reaching the top of the hill, Sally allowed 
Bettina Graham, her sister Alice, and Peggy 
Webster to reveal their Camp Fire prowess 
by starting a fire from the oily bark of a 
white birch tree, while Dan Webster, Philip 
Stead and Mary Gilchrist made the original 
test of the toboggan slide. 

Three-quarters of an hour later, still 
standing beside the now huge bonfire, Sally 
never had moved a dozen paces away, and 
this in spite of repeated invitation from 
nearly every one of her companions to make 
the journey down the long, smooth path of 
ice to the edge of Half Moon Lake. 


FRIENDS THAT WERE 151 


“ Thanks, I don’t believe I would care 
for it. Yes, I am a little afraid, besides I 
should not like the long walk up the hill 
when the ride is over,” she had protested 
politely but with the firmness the other 
girls recognized as characteristic. 

Dan Webster appeared either to be obliv- 
ious to, or else to have forgotten Sally’s 
accustomed obstinacy. Not once but half 
a dozen times he urged her to take part, 
insisting that he would take care of her and 
even bring her back up the hill. Sally 
continued to shake her head: “Thanks 
very much, you are awfully kind, but I 
had rather not,” until finally even Dan 
himself desisted. 

Besides Sally Ashton there was one other 
member of the party who would not be 
persuaded to attempt the tobogganing — 
Allan Drain. 

Sally had once overheard a conversation 
between him and Mary Gilchrist, and 
afterwards the young man had wandered 
off leaving her to guard the fire alone. 

“I suppose you are afraid as Sally is,” 
Gill had said, and Sally, not annoyed in the 
least by a reference to her cowardice, had 


152 AT HALF MOON LAKE 


thought Gill never looked handsomer or 
more vigorous, with her auburn hair blowing 
from beneath her gray squirrel cap, her 
cheeks glowing with health and her full lips 
parted. 

In contrast her companion had appeared 
white and frozen, half lifeless, with all the 
color gone from his face and his lips blue. 
Really Gill was not kind, Sally concluded, 
observing that Allan Drain had to hold him- 
self together to keep from shivering. 

“I don’t like a man who is a coward. 
Life must be a great bore to anyone who 
hates the outdoor world as you do and yet 
is compelled to be a part of it. I know you 
prefer a stuffy little room high up over a 
city with your books and your poetry and 
your dream of yourself,” she protested. 

With a little light laughter, Gill dis- 
appeared and a short time after Sally 
observed the young poet start down the hill 
on the way either to their cabin or his own. 

When he had gone too far to hear her call, 
Sally regretted that she had not accom- 
panied him. In spite of the fire she was 
growing stiff with the cold. Already the 
afternoon shadows were turning the white 


FRIENDS THAT WERE 153 


world about her into softer tones of lilac 
and gold. 

Sorry for her own suggestion, she now 
longed to be back at Tahawus and with her 
mother and father, who surely belonged to 
her after their long talk with the others. 
Nor did she wish any one to accompany her, 
which was a part of her mood since ordi- 
narily nothing would have induced her to 
walk any distance in the winter woods alone. 

Fortunately to-day one had not to be so 
careful of the trail. Here it was straight 
down the hill they had just climbed together. 

There was no one near. Allan Drain was 
almost out of sight, yet his course would 
serve as a guide. 

The others, crowding the toboggan, were 
midway down the steep incline. 

Placing a fresh pile of wood on the fire 
and warming herself as thoroughly as pos- 
sible, a moment later, without confiding her 
intention, Sally set off alone down the snow- 
covered mountain, carefully keeping in the 
tracks made by herself and her friends a 
short time before. 


CHAPTER XIII 


Anxious Waiting 
HE first few yards of her trip down- 



hill Sally managed with comparative 


comfort, but soon after the ice path 
grew steeper and her footing less secure. 
Then she would slide for a few feet, catching 
at any tree or frozen shrub along her route. 
A quarter of a mile away already she was 
sorry she had attempted the descent alone. 

“ Alice! Alice! Dan! Dan!” she called, 
hoping that some one of her friends had 
discovered her absence and would come 
searching for her. But no one answered 
and no one came. Should she return up the 
slope, or wait where she was until the others 
returned? The time could not be long; 
already they had been away from Tahawus 
cabin two hours and had promised to return 
before twilight. 

Five minutes of waiting and Sally found 
herself growing numb from the cold. She 
had not been exercising, and toasting herself 


( 154 ) 


ANXIOUS WAITING 


155 


in front of the open fire evidently had made 
her more susceptible to the cold. Unques- 
tionably she must move on in one direction 
or the other, and yet to go back would mean 
that the return journey would be doubly 
long. Besides, she wanted to be home. A 
vision of her mother and father, of the Camp 
Fire guardian, of their older guests seated 
about the great fire in the living-room of the 
cabin assailed her. Anxious they probably 
Were already at the failure of the younger 
members of the house party to return. 

Moving cautiously a few feet further 
along, Sally’s foot struck against a stone 
concealed by the ice, yet her fall did not 
appear to have injured her; as she lay 
quiet she felt more dazed than hurt. 

Soon after she was up and on her way 
again. 

But now the snow trail was no longer so 
plain as it had been and she was therefore 
obliged to study the route more carefully. 
However, she concluded that if one kept 
steadily down the hill toward the valley one 
could not go far astray and once on level 
ground walking would be less difficult. 

, Yet if only she had not suggested this 


156 AT HALF MOON LAKE 


outdoor excursion, which had proved such 
a disappointment to her! 

From cold, from fatigue and disappoint- 
ment the slow tears coursing down her 
cheeks seemed to freeze into tiny crystals. 
By and by she was so cold that she could 
not move rapidly, although aware that in 
action lay her only safeguard. 

Another false step and Sally was glad to 
awaken to the realization that her second 
fall had brought her further down the hill. 
In a quarter of a mile more doubtless she 
would reach the frozen bank of Half Moon 
Lake and be able to see the lights of their 
camp on the farther side, for although the 
lake was of considerable length it was not 
more than fifty yards wide. 

At the foot of the hill Sally found herself 
in a small ravine, where the ice had formed 
only a thin layer above the drifting snow. 
Attempting to cross the ravine she sank to 
her knees, but managed to flounder out 
again. 

In order to console herself she attempted 
to recall various Camp Fire maxims which 
might afford her courage or inspiration, but 
concluded that concentration upon her task 
left no opportunity for other ideas. 


ANXIOUS WAITING 


157 


On the farther side of the ravine which she 
did not remember to have crossed earlier in 
the afternoon there was no gleaming surface 
of water frozen into the winter landscape. 

Instantly Sally appreciated that she had 
lost the trail and had come down the hill at 
some distant point from Tahawus cabin. 
Across the lake at any hour of the day or 
night one could see blue curls of smoke 
rising from the cabin, or at dusk the lights 
gleaming from the wirfdows, but now no 
human habitation was visible. 

Sally was in a world of complete loneliness. 
There is no loneliness, no silence so absolute 
as the forest in winter. Except for the snow 
birds, all the other birds have departed. 
Save when they must seek food, the animals 
keep their own cloisters; there are no leaves 
to rustle on the trees, only the little crackling 
noises due to intense cold. 

How far was she at present from Tahawus 
cabin or any shelter? An instant Sally 
stood still. Curiously in the face of actual 
danger she lost her sense of discomfort and 
disenchantment and with a serious situation 
possessed an extraordinary capacity for 
calm judgment. 


158 AT HALF MOON LAKE 


In an hour the woods would be in dark- 
ness. There was no point in evading the 
issue; she appreciated what was inevitable. 

Yet she had no thought of surrender, not 
for the present. 

With the realization of the situation Sally 
seemed to feel added strength and faith. 

When the others arrived at Tahawus 
cabin, finding that she was not there, a 
search party would start out at once. If 
only she had not broken her compass a few 
days before, as she rarely left home without 
it, at least she might have managed to walk 
in the direction of Tahawus cabin and not 
face the risk of going the opposite way. 

Notwithstanding the barricade of hills, 
she could see toward the west that the sun 
had descended, leaving a faint afterglow of 
purple and yellow and rose on the dim white 
peaks. 

Sally moved westward, believing Tahawus 
cabin lay toward the west. But darkness 
came at length and she grew more bewil- 
dered. Moreover, she was nearly frozen. 
Now and then she would pause to wave her 
arms and stamp her feet, smiling at herself 
meanwhile, a half frozen, childish smile. 


ANXIOUS WAITING 


159 


In her fur coat with her waving arms, so 
stiff they moved with difficulty, she must 
have looked like an animated bear had any- 
one seen her in the dusk. 

Several times Sally stumbled and fell 
forward, only to pick herself up and go 
steadfastly on. 

She had no fear of wild animals, most of 
them were vanished from the Adirondack 
forest; nor of the darkness was she afraid; 
she was fearful of but two things, the cold 
and the silence. 

Moreover, always before her appeared the 
picture of the gleaming fireplace at the 
cabin. Once she put out her hands as if 
she would warm them before it. Again she 
felt her father’s arms about her and her head 
dropping half asleep against his shoulder. 
Then Sally aroused herself more completely, 
appreciating that drowsiness must be fought 
above all other sensations, if one would 
conquer the peril of freezing. 

Twice Sally was under the impression 
that she saw a tall figure approaching and 
called Dan Webster’s name, only to find 
later that the figure she had hoped might 
be human was a low tree with a pair of 
forked arms. 



Sally’s Hands Beat Against the Closed Doob 




ANXIOUS WAITING 


161 


Toward the latter part of her journeying 
she had no impressions, almost no conscious- 
ness, yet something must have guided her — 
instinct, sub-conscious mind, call it what 
you will. 

A light drew her, as a light has drawn, all 
wanderers on the face of the earth. 

Rising on the peak of a low hill appeared 
a fairy palace with only the towers visible 
as if built upon air, but nearer, almost 
beside her, a small, uncertain light. 

Sally’s hands beat against the closed door 
of a small, one-room house. 

The face of the man who opened the door 
she had a faint impression of having seen 
before, but afterwards she remembered 
nothing but her own effort to reach the fire 
and the man restraining her. 


n 


CHAPTER XIV 


Christmas Eve 

m AHEN you really did care, Dan, 
when you feared I was lost and 
that something tragic may have 
happened?” 

“I always intended to find you, Sally.” 

Yet Dan Webster looked troubled. 

He was standing staring down at the girl 
who was sitting wrapped in a white woolen 
cape before the log fire at Tahawus cabin. 

Somehow Sally Ashton appeared several 
years younger than before her adventure. 
She was paler, the lines of her face thinner 
and there was a little downward droop to 
the corners of her full lips. 

“And yet in a way I did not find you 
after all! I was merely tramping through 
the woods calling your name when by acci- 
dent I saw a figure moving toward me, the 
man whose little cabin you had stumbled 
into. Fate was kinder to you than you 
dream, Sally. Mr. Holden was on his way 
to your friends.” 


( 162 ) 


CHRISTMAS EYE 


163 


Sally slipped further down into the large 
semi-invalid chair, ordinarily occupied by 
Mrs. Burton. 

“Yes, and I implored him not to leave 
me alone, Dan. I know it was selfish of 
me and yet I wanted to wait till morning 
before sending any word. I don’t remember 
that I was so frightened when I was wan- 
dering around alone. I have not as much 
imagination as the other girls, besides at 
first I knew I must not allow myself to be 
terrified and afterwards, well, afterwards I 
suppose I really w r as too cold, Dan, to think 
or care for anything in the world save get- 
ting warm again. Yet I did think of mother 
and father and you. I don’t believe I 
thought of Alice.” 

Sally’s face wore an odd, childish expres- 
sion. 

“Alice is so critical of me and of course 
getting lost and nearly freezing was partly 
my own fault and partly yours, Dan. But 
what I intended to tell you was that as soon 
as I recovered a little and had something 
warm to drink, hot coffee, or tea, and had 
rested, Mr. Holden — was that his name? — 
insisted that he must leave me and tramp 


164 AT HALF MOON LAKE 


to Tahawus cabin. It was miles away and 
I knew no one could get back before mid- 
night. So suddenly it seemed to me I could 
not stay alone. Before it had been so silent 
and now I could hear strange sounds, the 
barking of little foxes, the calls of animals. 
I feared no one would return and I would 
be forever lost in the tiny hut.” 

Sally shivered. 

“ Nevertheless Mr. Holden would go. He 
told me I would be entirely safe and could 
doubtless sleep until his return. Strange 
that I should have seen him before! It was 
one afternoon when Chitty and I were in 
the woods not far away and he sat listening 
to Chitty’s singing. I was puzzled by him 
then and am still puzzled. Did you ask 
him, Dan, why he lived like a hermit? I 
will some day, and I think he may tell me. 
Anyhow I am very grateful to him. And 
I was just falling asleep, Dan, when you 
came and found me. Then together you 
dragged me back on a sled. Do you know 
I have scarcely been wide awake since 
mother and father lifted me and brought 
me into the cabin. And yet I am still 


CHRISTMAS EVE 


165 


Back among a pile of cushions Sally 
dropped her head as if she were not alto- 
gether displeased by her present condition. 

Nevertheless, her companion watched her 
anxiously. 

Dan Webster was a tall, splendid looking 
fellow, six feet in height, with blue eyes, 
coal-black hair and extraordinary physical 
vigor. He had been two years with the 
American army in France, but at present 
was only twenty-two. 

“It is perfectly natural that you should 
be tired, Sally. I am only worried for fear 
we are doing too much talking. Your 
mother told me to keep you amused and 
away from all the excitement. One ques- 
tion I must ask. What did you mean by 
saying a few moments ago that I was in 
part responsible for your attempt to return 
to the cabin alone and being lost in conse- 
quence? Had I dreamed what you in- 
tended, I should never have allowed it. It 
really was nonsensical of you, Sally, to 
attempt to come home alone; you know you 
have less skill in outdoor things than the 
other Camp Fire girls and less courage.” 

Sally frowned. 


166 AT HALF MOON LAKE 


“ Then all the more reason why you should 
not have left me alone, first to walk up 
the hill without even speaking to me and 
afterwards to stand and freeze while you 
continued to amuse yourself with Mary 
Gilchrist. Of course Gill is athletic and has 
lots of courage and is all the things I am 
not, but you have always pretended to be 
my friend ; Dan, and I have not seen you 
since we parted in France. You told me 
then that I ought to return home because I 
had less ability to help with reconstruction 
work than the other Camp Fire girls. It is 
always the things I lack that you notice, 
isn’t it? But you are right, I am tired and 
would prefer not to talk any more. To 
think that to-morrow is not only Christmas 
but Peggy’s wedding day! Little did any 
of us dream that a white Christmas at Half 
Moon Lake would see the first wedding 
among our group of Sunrise Hill Camp Fire 
girls! If you don’t mind, will you leave me 
alone for a little while now, Dan? No, I 
don’t wish to sleep; there are several things 
I want to think about. I’ll see you to-night 
at supper.” 

“I won’t go, Sally, until you explain what 
you meant.” 


CHRISTMAS EVE 


167 


Lowering her eyelids as if intending to 
rest, Sally glanced at the tall figure towering 
above her, through half open eyes which 
afforded her a plain view of her companion, 
but concealed her expression from him. 

There was something in Dan’s manner 
which pleased Sally. 

He looked so strong and masterful and 
yet at the same time so hurt and puzzled. 
It always had been a comfort and an amuse- 
ment that she understood him better than 
he would ever understand her. 

“Why, I meant nothing except what I 
said, Dan.” 

“But to talk of pretense in my friendship 
for you, Sally, is so nonsensical. I have 
cared for you ever since you were a little 
girl more than I have cared for any one 
save my own family. Of late, well, I might 
as well be honest, after I saw you in France 
I knew I cared more. I did not want to 
speak of this to you, Sally, not for a time. 
I feel as if somehow you were too young. 
I know of course that in France Lieutenant 
Fleury,* the young officer you nursed, liked 
you pretty well and then there was some 

* See “Camp Fire Girls on the Field of Honor.” 


168 AT HALF MOON LAKE 


Englishman, but they were foreigners and I 
suppose afraid to take a chance. I can’t 
say I blame them, although I did want you 
back in your own country for selfish reasons 
as well as for your own good.” 

The girl’s brown eyes with their curiously 
golden depth were wide open at this 
moment. 

“I really never could like any one except 
an American, Dan. I did not dream until 
I was in Europe how much I cared for my 
own country.” 

Dan did not appear as pleased by this 
speech as might have been expected. 

“ There are more than a hundred million 
Americans, Sally, and I presume about ten 
million young men. Is it your idea that 
you care for them all alike because they are 
Americans?” 

“Not alike,” Sally returned. “ But about 
Mary Gilchrist?” 

Dan flushed and looked as if he wished 
to make an angry retort. Then the sight 
of Sally sitting warm and safe and sweet 
before the open fire and the memory of the 
hours he had tramped the frozen earth 
hoping and yet dreading to discover her, 
softened him. 


CHRISTMAS EVE 


169 


“ About Mary Gilchrist you know there 
is nothing to say, Sally, Imow it fully as 
well as I. The other afternoon she needed 
some one to help with the toboggan. I was 
accustomed to the sport and fond of it and 
knew how to run things when the other 
fellows did not. To have remained with 
you, which I would prefer to have done, 
was to have affected everybody’s pleasure. 
If that is the reason why you started home 
alone, I think you were pretty hard on us 
aH.” 

To make a confession of a mistake was 
more difficult for Sally than for a more 
impetuous temperament, yet she answered 
with an air of unexpected penitence. 

“I am sorry, Dan. I was angry and 
piqued and jealous perhaps. So I suppose 
I deserved what happened to me, yet it 
was not fair to make mother and father and 
Tante and the others and you, Dan, 
uneasy.” 

“Uneasy, well that is scarcely the proper 
word, Sally. I have never been more 
wretched in my life. I knew if I did not 
find you and if all was not well with you I 
should never have another happy moment. 


170 AT HALF MOON LAKE 


Dan spoke simply but with such complete 
sincerity that Sally made a little movement 
and saw his hand reach out as if he wished 
to touch her soft hair. Then the door 
opened and Mrs. Burton, the Camp Fire 
guardian, with her sister, Mrs. Webster, 
came into the living-room. 

They were twin sisters, at one time Polly 
and Mollie O’Neill, and among the original 
group of Camp Fire girls. 

They had resembled each other in the 
past, but the years and difference in temper- 
ament and experience at present made the 
likeness less apparent. Mrs. Webster had 
grown plump, there were lines of gray in 
her dark hair, her cheeks were bright and 
freshly colored. She had a look of gentle 
and dignified maturity. Save for the death 
of her son, Billy Webster, • her life had been 
one of happiness and fulfilment, devoted to 
her husband and her two children, Dan 
Webster and Peggy, and to her gifted sister, 
Polly O’Neill Burton, in the brief periods 
when they were able to be together. In 
fact, she looked ten years the elder; the 
other woman’s slender figure, her dark hair 

*See “Camp Fire Girls at the End of the Trail.” 


CHRISTMAS EVE 


171 


and brilliant eyes, her vividness held no 
suggestion of age. 

“ Sally, dear, your mother is asking for 
you and wants you to lie down for a little 
while. The truth is I believe she is afraid 
to have you out of her sight after your 
behavior the other evening. Dan, will you 
escort Sally? She seems to require some 
one to look after her at present, although 
she was once the Camp Fire heroine. 
Mollie and I wish to decide upon the 
arrangements of this room to-morrow. 
Peggy has left all details to the other Camp 
Fire girls and Bettina has asked our advice. 
I suppose the ceremony ought to be per- 
formed there between the two big windows 
with the white world of beauty outside as 
the background. But really, Mollie, how 
you can be willing to permit our only and 
beloved Peggy to be married in this abrupt 
fashion is beyond my comprehension. 

“She came to us here at Tahawus cabin 
that we might have a brief visit together 
free from the thought of her marriage to 
Ralph Merritt in the spring and lo, Ralph, 
descends upon us and demands Peggy in 
thirty-six hours! It is too impossible; you 
and William should not have agreed.” 


172 AT HALF MOON LAKE 


Mrs. Webster placed her arm about her 
sister. 

“But, Polly, Peggy told you she would 
not dream of marrying Ralph in this abrupt 
fashion unless you consented and believed 
it the thing she should do. Not only are 
you her adored aunt, but you have been 
her Camp Fire guardian all these years 
and I am accustomed to the idea that she 
loves you, if not better, at least as well as 
she loves me. Now if you are to make 
yourself ill over this when you were getting 
stronger, why Ralph can go to China alone 
and Peggy wait until he is able to return for 
her. I shall tell her you have changed your 
mind and consented only because you did 
not wish her to be unhappy.” 

“Well, suppose I did consent for that 
reason, Mollie, all the more reason w r hy I 
must not change my mind. We can have 
this room filled with Christmas evergreens 
and Ralph tells me he has ordered roses and 
lilies to be sent up from town. Our Peggy 
shall be 'a white bride of winter ’ and I 
promise to pretend that I do not hate all 
weddings save my own, and above all 
others the marriage of my Sunrise Camp 
Fire girls!” 


CHAPTER XV 


Romance 

T HE living-room at Tahawus cabin 
suggested an outdoor cathedral. 
Evergreens arched overhead; the 
walls were lined with green branches of 
holly, cedar and pine; while above the 
mantel and hanging from the chandelier 
were bunches of mistletoe, the white berries, 
like captured snowflakes. 

Between the front windows swung a bell 
composed of mistletoe leaves with the 
clapper of the white berries. Underneath 
was an improvised platform with a back- 
ground of green and stalks of lilies and roses. 

Yet the wedding ceremony was to be of 
the simplest character with no outside 
guests. 

On Peggy’s part this involved no especial 
sacrifice, since nearly every one she cared 
for deeply was at present in Tahawus cabin, 
her father having arrived with Ralph 
Merritt. 


( 173 ) 


174 AT HALF MOON LAKE 


Ralph's parents were the cause of the 
hurried wedding. Spending the winter in 
China, it had been their intention to return 
home in the early spring in order to be 
present at the marriage of their son and 
Peggy Webster. However, a cable announc- 
ing his mother's serious illness, had urged 
Ralph to sail for China as soon as possible. 
And he had the good fortune at the last 
moment to persuade Peggy not to force him 
to make the long journey alone. 

There was no opportunity for the pur- 
chase of wedding clothes, but Peggy was to 
spend several days in New York, where she 
could outfit herself for the journey. 

The wedding was to take place at high 
noon, with a clergyman from Saranac 
officiating. 

At exactly the moment of high noon, with 
the clock in the hall chiming twelve strokes, 
Peggy walked into the living-room on the 
arm of her father. Her brother, Dan, was 
best man and he and Ralph stood awaiting 
her. 

Afterwards the Sunrise Camp Fire girls 
formed a semicircle about the bride, wear- 
ing simple toilettes of white serge which had 


ROMANCE 


175 


been intended for the Christmas dinner 
party. 

Peggy’s wedding dress was a white crepe 
de chine without trimming of any kind save 
an exquisite collar of Duchess lace, which 
Miss Patricia had unexpectedly produced as 
a wedding gift. Without a wedding veil 
Peggy looked as her family and friends were 
accustomed to seeing her at any time; her 
color never wavered, her dark eyes remained 
steadfast and untroubled, in fact she seemed 
less agitated than any one of the other 
Camp Fire girls. 

Not far away from the little group the 
Camp Fire guardian stood between her 
husband and Miss Patricia. Having sol- 
emnly promised Peggy not to break down, 
her lips were firmly closed, her face white 
with two bright spots of color in her cheeks, 
yet her blue eyes less brilliant than usual. 

Mrs. Webster cried softly during the cere- 
mony, nevertheless, her lips continued to 
smile while her eyes were dim; her own 
marriage had proved so satisfying and, 
devoted to Ralph Merritt, she had the faith 
to believe that Peggy’s would be equally so. 

Mary Gilchrist, whose position was at 


176 AT HALF MOON LAKE 


one of the ends of the semi-circle, toward 
the close of the ceremony glanced toward 
the group of people who were slightly more 
in the background — Mr. and Mrs. Ashton, 
and Philip Stead with Elspeth and David 
Murray behind them and David Hale a few 
feet away. 

Beside the great fireplace Mrs. Burton 
was standing near Allan Drain, who always 
seemed to prefer her society to any other. 

She had on a soft gray chiffon dress over 
silk. In an irrelevant fashion it occurred 
to Gill that Mrs. Burton was rather too 
close to the open fire. 

The next instant the impression vanished 
as her interest in Peggy recurred. Yet the 
subconscious thought must have remained, 
for scarcely aware of her action a second 
time she turned her head to behold a little, 
light flame flare suddenly amid the folds of 
the soft material and spread with amazing 
rapidity. 

She was a number of yards away and a 
movement on her part would interrupt the 
ceremony, now at its most solemn moment. 
Besides, Mrs. Burton, or some one near, 
must know what was occurring before she 


ROMANCE 


177 


could dream of reaching her. Transfixed, 
she remained staring perhaps not thirty 
seconds. Then she saw Mrs. Burton utter 
a little cry that was almost soundless, so 
promptly was it suppressed. Not wishing 
to destroy the beauty of the ceremony or to 
attract attention, unwisely she turned to 
escape from the room and with her first 
movement the blaze so increased that she 
appeared to be standing in a circle of flame. 

However, Allan Drain immediately threw 
his arms about her and was holding her still, 
while at the same time he was beating out 
the flames. The following instant David 
Hale, aware at last of the situation, snatched 
a heavy shawl from a chair, enfolded Allan 
Drain and Mrs. Burton inside it. 

It was all so quickly and quietly accom- 
plished that Peggy and the other Camp Fire 
girls had no knowledge of what had taken 
place until the service was ended. 

The others had seen it, and yet for Peggy's 
sake, as the danger was past, had made no 
outcry. 

“But, Betty, I do not understand how 
you could have been so careless," Mrs. 
Burton protested almost irritable from 


12 


178 AT HALF MOON LAKE 


fright, when Peggy and Ralph had turned 
and were surrounded by their mother and 
father, the Camp Fire girls, Dan and Mr. 
and Mrs. Ashton. 

Only Bettina and Mary Gilchrist moved 
over to the smaller group encircling Mrs. 
Graham and almost concealing her. 

“I am not hurt, Bettina dear, don’t be 
alarmed. And, Polly, it was careless of me, 
I am sorry to have frightened you. No, I 
am perfectly all right, only I am afraid Allan 
Drain is hurt. I am so sorry, Allan, I seem 
to be your evil genius. Bettina, suppose 
you come with us and please don’t let any 
one else trouble; I would so regret disturbing 
Peggy’s and Ralph’s wedding. We will 
come back in a few moments.” 

So the little group disappeared, accom- 
panied by David Hale and Mary Gilchrist, 
who followed after them to offer assistance. 

A quarter of an hour later they all 
returned to the living-room save Allan 
Drain. Mrs. Burton, having changed her 
dress, showed no trace of her recent peril 
and begged that there be no discussion of it. 

Peggy and Ralph were to remain for 
Christmas dinner at two o’clock and after- 
wards to leave for New York. 


ROMANCE 


179 


The dinner was the usual Christmas feast, 
but because Miss Patricia was hostess, she 
had ordered from the great city beautiful 
favors and bonbons as well, the principal 
favor a tiny log cabin with a small camp 
fire glowing outside upon a little surface of 
crystal to represent the frozen earth. 

Before four Peggy and Ralph departed, 
driven to Saranac by David Murray and 
soon after a slight atmosphere of depression 
descended upon Tahawus cabin. 

The older members of the house party 
departed to their own rooms, including 
Bettina Graham who felt Peggy’s marriage 
more keenly than the other Camp Fire girls, 
besides being worried over the possible 
nervous shock to her mother from the catas- 
trophe of a few hours before. 

The Camp Fire guardian was about to 
drop down on her couch to rest, and Captain 
Burton sat reading by the fire, when a knock 
at the door of her bed-room, which Mrs. Bur- 
ton opened, admitted Miss Patricia Lord. 

“I came in for a moment to find out how 
you have borne the day’s excitement,” she 
began in a tone of unexpected gentleness. 
“ You look rather better than I anticipated.” 


180 AT HALF MOON LAKE 


Mrs. Burton put her arm about the 
angular figure and drew her down on the 
couch beside her. 

“ What does it feel like to be a Christmas 
fairy godmother, Aunt Patricia — unlike 
being a fairy godmother during the remain- 
der of the year. But you look tired your- 
self, dear, or if not tired something is the 
matter. What is it?” 

Miss Patricia’s expression was unusual, a 
little shamefaced and appealing, altogether 
unlike her ordinary air of command. 

“I want you to do me a favor, Polly. I 
came in to ask you and Richard when I 
hoped to discover you alone. I have wished 
to find you some little Christmas offering, 
but could not be sure of what you might 
desire, besides being shut off up here. So I 
thought perhaps you might get what you 
wish and so keep me from making a mis- 
take.” 

Flushing, and not glancing toward Mrs. 
Burton, Miss Patricia thrust into her hand 
a small slip of paper, and when her eyes fell 
upon it she discovered it to be a check for 
a thousand dollars. 

“This is merely a small Christmas gift, 


ROMANCE 


181 


Polly, which I trust you will not speak of,” 
Miss Patricia announced in her more famil- 
iar tone of severity before the younger 
woman had an opportunity to respond. 

“ Richard,” Mrs. Burton said finally, her 
voice a little uncertain, “Aunt Patricia has 
just given us a check for a thousand dollars, 
which of course we cannot accept, chiefly 
because she is the most generous person in 
the world, and if she is permitted to go on 
in this fashion some day will have no money 
at all. Dear, you know I am everlastingly 
grateful and that Richard and I already 
owe you more than we would be willing to 
accept from any one else, but really we 
cannot take this as well. There is your 
home in France for war orphans which must 
absorb a portion of your capital and then 
the expense of this cabin and all you have 
done for me and the girls this winter. You 
know how deeply I appreciate the added 
gift, dear, but you must try and see that it 
is .out of the question for Richard and me 
to be under further obligation.” 

“Obligation!” Miss Patricia repeated. 
Were you my own daughter, Polly — and a 
dozen times I have told you that I am as 


182 AT HALF MOON LAKE 


much attached to you as if you were — 
would you treat my gift in this fashion?” 

“Why, yes, dear, I think so. Please do 
not be hurt, I have told you Richard and I 
could not accept gifts of money from you.” 

Leaning over, Miss Patricia took the 
check from the younger woman’s hand, 
tossing it into the fire. 

“ I presume you agree with Polly, Richard, 
since you have made no remark,” she added. 
Then, notwithstanding their protests and 
effort at persuasion, she arose and stalked 
out of the room. 

“You have wounded Aunt Patricia very 
deeply, I am afraid, Polly,” Captain Burton 
said the next moment. “However, I sup- 
pose you were right and that it was unavoid- 
able.” 

Mrs. Burton had flung herself down on 
her couch. 

“Of course I was right, Richard, and you 
need not have placed the entire responsi- 
bility of the refusal upon me. Do you sup- 
pose I enjoy wounding Aunt Patricia any 
more than you do? Was there ever any 
one so dear and so difficult? She will not 
forgive me in many a day! The truth is, 


ROMANCE 


183 


Richard, Aunt Patricia has conceived the 
idea that you are worried over some money 
difficulty and would like to give us a good 
deal more money if we should need it. Can 
she by any chance be right?” 

Rising, Captain Burton walked over to 
the fireplace and stood looking into the fire. 

“Yes, Polly, Aunt Patricia is never 
altogether mistaken. One can trust always 
to her wisdom and kindness. We have some 
investments which of late have not been 
turning out so well as I hoped. Yet at 
present there is no occasion to be troubled; 
after a little they will adjust themselves. I 
beg of you not to worry or in any way to 
allow the idea to interfere with your 
recovery.” 

“You are telling me the truth, Richard? 
I object to being treated like a child or an 
invalid when I am neither. I am ever so 
much better and there is no reason now why 
I should not be allowed to return to work. 
In a year I feel convinced I could again be 
fairly successful.” 

“Please do not refer to the subject, Polly. 
Before I should agree to such rashness I 
would appeal to Aunt Patricia. However, 
there is no necessity.” 


184 AT HALF MOON LAKE 


“But you promise to let me know if there 
should be a necessity.” 

At first Captain Burton made no reply 
and then said smiling: 

“Polly, there are times when I agree with 
Aunt Patricia, that you are a trying person. 
I presume I shall be forced to tell you, but 
there will be no occasion.” 

During this discussion the living-room of 
Tahawus cabin was gradually being deserted. 

Dan Webster, David Hale, Philip Stead 
with Alice Ashton, Marguerite Arnot and 
Yera Lagerloff had departed for an hour’s 
walk, the other girls having declined for 
various reasons. Alone before the fire with 
an open book, Allan Drain was trying to 
amuse himself and to forget the pain whose 
existence he steadfastly had been denying. 
There was nothing serious the matter, save 
that his hands had been burned, and, in 
spite of the cooling bandages in which they 
were wrapped, continued to ache. 

With difficulty he could turn the pages 
of his book, so that he immediately heard 
the rustle of a soft silk gown and glanced 
up to find Mrs. Graham beside him. She 
had taken off her more formal dress and 
was wearing a light blue tea gown. 


ROMANCE 


185 


“I came in to ask if there was anything 
I could do for you, Allan? I am afraid you 
are pretty uncomfortable in spite of your 
denial of the fact. I have been wishing 
there was some way in which I could make 
up to you for the loss of your verses, but 
instead I am more than ever under obliga- 
tion. I don’t intend to allow myself to 
think of what might have happened this 
morning except for your presence of mind 
and courage. What are you reading?” 

“A volume of new plays, some one seems 
to have sent Mrs. Burton. I did nothing 
for you this morning; it was David Hale 
who really rescued us both, Mrs. Graham. 
Yet there is something you can do for me. 
I wonder if I am asking too much? Could 
you, would you ask Mrs. Burton to glance 
over a one-act play I lately have been strug- 
gling to write? A single word, or sugges- 
tion from her would be the greatest help 
and inspiration to me, more than you can 
dream. It is not that I think my little play 
is worth anything, yet if she only considers 
the idea worth while, why, some day I may 
be able to do something with it.” 

“Why, of course Polly shall read your 


186 AT HALF MOON LAKE 


play and give you her criticism, although I 
warn you, she may not be flattering. Doubt- 
less she would have read it had you asked 
her yourself. She certainly will now that 
I shall allow her no peace of mind until the 
fact is accomplished. You are going to 
stay with us a few days until you have 
recovered, but Bettina will walk over to 
your cabin with you to-morrow and bring 
back your manuscript. We shall see this 
manuscript does not come to grief. Good- 
by, go back to your reading, I’ll not inter- 
rupt you any further.” 

But Allan Drain did not return to his 
reading; instead he allowed the leaves of his 
book to close while he sat gazing into the 
fire. He had been afraid he would not have 
sufficient courage for the request he had 
just made, but now having gone through 
the ordeal he wondered whether or not he 
regretted his own act. Doubtless the little 
play was no good and Mrs. Burton would 
be tired and bored by being forced to devote 
a half hour to it. Moreover, she was too 
sincere an artist not to give him her true 
opinion, and afterwards he would never 
have the steadfastness to go on with his 


ROMANCE 


187 


writing, knowing her estimate of his work. 
This winter was going to be difficult enough, 
so why not better have kept this dream at 
least until the spring, when he need not be 
so much indoors? 

On this occasion Allan Drain did not hear 
the door open, nor glance up until Mary 
Gilchrist stood beside him. 

“I met Mrs. Burton in the hall and she 
suggested that I come in and offer to read 
to you if you will allow me. She said you 
were having some trouble in trying to turn 
over the pages of your book. I do not read 
very well, but it would give me a great deal 
of pleasure if you will let me make the 
attempt. Then if you can’t bear my effort, 
why I’ll stop and not be in the least offended.” 

Gill’s manner was so friendly and had in 
it such a new atmosphere of shyness, almost 
of apology, that Allan Drain, although not 
anxious to have his reverie interrupted, did 
not like to decline. 

“ Perhaps it would be pleasanter to talk; 
I can read at any time, as I am so much 
alone.” 

Declining a chair, Gill dropped down on 
the floor before the fire. 


188 AT HALF MOON LAKE 


“Will you talk to me? I should like it 
ever so much better. There is something I 
want specially to say to you — I want to 
apologize for my bad manners ever since 
our original meeting. You see, you said 
something then which annoyed me and 
afterwards impulsively I did something for 
which I never have forgiven myself, so ever 
since I have in a way wished to believe you 
responsible. I thought you had no courage, 
because you are not the kind of man ” 

Hesitating, Gill flushed hotly. How hope- 
lessly stupid and awkward she was! Actu- 
ally she was about to say the very thing 
she intended not!” 

“Because I am not the kind of fellow you 
admire. Go on, Miss Gilchrist. You 
don’t suppose I have any illusions on the 
subject, do you?” 

“Well, yes — no,” Gill answered. “Only 
to-day I discovered that you possessed both 
courage and presence of mind, the very 
traits of character I do admire. Besides, 
at this moment I appreciate you are in lots 
of pain, your face shows it, and yet you 
would rather not have me mention the fact. 

“I wish you would help me about some- 



“I Wisa You Would Help Me About Something,” She Said. 


V 



190 AT HALF MOON LAKE 


thing,” she went on. “The truth is, I seem 
to possess no moral courage, and somehow 
I feel that you do. I have been guilty of a 
fault that I am ashamed and afraid to con- 
fess. It has troubled me for weeks and I 
have been a good deal more unhappy than 
any one has realized. I really have wronged 
you more than any one else, and this morn- 
ing while Peggy Webster was being married I 
decided I must confess to some one and that 
perhaps I had best confess directly to you.” 

“But I haven’t the faintest idea what you 
are talking about,” Allan Drain protested. 

“No, of course not,” Gill answered. 

She had thrown back her head so that 
her face was slightly upturned.^ The light 
was on her red-brown hair, leaving her face 
in shadow. Yet Allan Drain observed that 
the gallant half boyish expression which she 
ordinarily wore had vanished and that her 
square, too determined chin was trembling. 

“Let me tell you quickly and please don’t 
interrupt, else I might not be able to go on. 
I have done you the greatest injustice, and 
not only you, but Mrs. Graham and Bettina, 
whom I like so much and whose good 
opinion I would give a great deal to possess. 


ROMANCE 


191 


“You remember when you brought your 
collection of verses here for Mrs. Graham 
to read and she told you afterwards that 
she had placed them upon a table in her 
bed-room, and then, after being away for 
a few hours, on her return discovered they 
had vanished?” 

“I am not likely to forget.” 

“Well, I went into Mrs. Graham’s bed- 
room while she was away and saw the verses 
lying among some books and papers. As I 
was curious and wished to read them, al- 
though I thought they would be poor, I 
took them to my own room. I had no 
opportunity to read them then, as I went 
for a walk soon afterwards.” 

His eyes alight, Allan Drain leaned 
forward. 

“You have them and will return them 
to me! I appreciate they are no good, just 
the same they mean a great deal to me. 
You would not be so unkind as to keep 
them when they are of no value to you.” 

Gill shook her head. 

“No, the trouble is I have not the verses. 
You see, you see, I destroyed them. Please, 
please don’t believe I intended this, it was 


192 AT HALF MOON LAKE 


wholly an accident, and yet so dreadfully 
stupid perhaps you can scarcely believe me. 

“Not wishing the other girls to know I 
was sufficiently interested to have borrowed 
the poems, I hid your manuscripts in an old 
box with some papers of no value. Then, 
this is the incredible thing, I forgot they 
were there. It was only a moment of for- 
getfulness; I remembered when it was too 
late. Later in the same afternoon I decided 
suddenly to clear out my bureau drawer and 
so piled all the trash I could find into this 
self-same box and carried it into ou rstudy 
and flung the box and everything it con- 
tained into the fire. The instant the papers 
caught fire I knew what I had done. I did 
thrust my hands into the flames only to 
draw forth a few charred scraps without a 
single fine upon them.” 

Gill drew up her sleeve; the scar from a 
burn showed above her wrist. 

“See I burned my arm in the attempt,” 
she murmured indifferently, “not that I 
cared except that I have had trouble in 
hiding the burn from the other girls. The 
worst thing I have done was not so much 
the accident and my foolish loss of memory, 


ROMANCE 


193 


but the fact that when Mrs. Graham and 
Bettina asked if I had seen the manuscripts 
of your poems, I told them no, or at least I 
deliberately gave them this impression. 
Yet all the days of my life I have esteemed 
truthfulness and a sense of honor the great- 
est of all human possessions. This is why 
I have never been able to make the confes- 
sion. I could not pass through Christmas 
day without telling you and to-morrow I 
shall speak to Mrs. Burton, Mrs. Graham, 
and Bettina and let them know of what I 
have been guilty. Afterwards I shall go 
home, I cannot remain here at Tahawus 
cabin. 

“Nor can I say that I forgive you, Miss 
Gilchrist. If I should say so I would not 
be telling the truth. IT do my best to 
forget after a time. After all, I had given 
up any idea of my verses being restored, so 
I am not much worse off.” 

Gill arose. 

“I much prefer your not pretending to 
forgive me, because you could not mean it 
truthfully. After I leave Half Moon Lake 
I hope we may never see each other again. 
I cannot exactly explain, but I felt when I 


194 AT HALF MOON LAKE 


met you that you would have an unfortun- 
ate influence upon me. Now I can never 
see you without recalling that because of 
you, or through you, I have done what I 
never could have believed of myself.” 

“I am sorry,” Allan Drain responded 
stiffly. 

“So am I, but that makes no real differ- 
ence now. I hear the others returning. 
Good-by.” 


CHAPTER XVI 


An Encounter 

W HILE Gill and Allan Drain were 
having their interview in the 
living-room, Bettina Graham 
slipped out of Tahawus cabin alone and 
carrying her skates walked down to the 
edge of Half Moon Lake. 

She had been depressed all day; Peggy’s 
marriage and departure to a foreign country 
meant more to her than most persons 
dreamed. They had been intimate and 
devoted friends since they were tiny girls, 
and Bettina believed their friendship could 
never again have its old value. 

The fact that Peggy appeared to have 
found her place in the scheme of things also 
affected Bettina, because of late she herself 
had felt that she must find some more 
definite outlet for her own life. Her school 
days were over unless she were to choose 
some special course of study; this winter in 
the mountains, delightful as it had been in 
( 195 ) 


196 AT HALF MOON LAKE 


many respects and not without its useful 
lessons, nevertheless seemed to be a pause 
and not a step forward in any particular 
direction. 

Unwilling to confess either to her mother 
or Camp Fire guardian who would be 
wounded by the knowledge, Bettina had 
been far more restless and dissatisfied for 
the past few months than any one had 
imagined. This afternoon her restlessness 
had culminated. 

Kneeling down, she fastened on her 
skates. 

Twilight was approaching, the distant 
snow-covered hills were amazing studies in 
purple, from pale violet to the deeper tones. 
The surface of the lake itself bore the 
reflections of a crystal ball. 

Bettina started skating slowly, wishing 
to pursue her own train of thought. She 
knew what her mother expected of her; 
they had been discussing the subject this 
afternoon, and Bettina not only recognized 
the reasonableness of her mothers position, 
but would have been hurt had she felt 
otherwise. 

Naturally after two years of absence 


AN ENCOUNTER 


197 


abroad, her father and mother looked for- 
ward to her returning to Washington and 
entering society. She was no longer young 
enough to plead for more time, the war was 
past and she had been allowed to devote 
herself to its service. This winter in the 
Adirondacks was due to a special set of cir- 
cumstances, her Camp Fire guardian’s ill- 
ness, her father’s long absence from Wash- 
ington, and her mother’s desire to be with 
Mrs. Burton and her group of Camp Fire 
girls. In another six weeks her mother 
probably would join her father in the west 
and conclude the trip with him. She would 
then go back to Washington and they were 
looking forward to a happy summer together 
in their own cottage by the Blue Lagoon. 
So far Bettina knew nothing save happiness 
in the prospect before her, but after the 
summer, her mother had been planning this 
very afternoon a brilliant winter in Wash- 
ington society. 

Why could she not feel the interest that 
any other normal girl in the world would feel 
in such a future, with a successful marriage 
as its climax? 

Yet Bettina knew she only dreaded it 


198 AT HALF MOON LAKE 


with an even deeper antagonism than she 
had felt in the past. 

If only she and her brother, Tony, might 
have changed places? Tony was as strik- 
ingly handsome as their mother was beauti- 
ful and possessed her social grace and charm 
of manner. 

Bettina believed she had neither; it was 
not merely a matter of appearance; there 
were persons who thought her reasonably 
good looking in her own fashion. Besides, 
she and her Camp Fire guardian had dis- 
cussed the subject many times, and she 
herself had witnessed in Mrs. Burton a 
triumph of personality which always trans- 
cends mere physical beauty. Her own 
distaste was a far more important factor. 
In the midst of a group of society people 
Bettina knew she always was obliged to 
fight a sense of awkwardness, of shyness, 
and that she had no conversation and no 
animation. She could only prove a disap- 
pointment to her mother, and yet was it 
not fair that she should make the experi- 
ment? Against her own judgment and 
desire, her mother had allowed her the past 
two years of freedom in her Camp Fire life. 


AN ENCOUNTER 


199 


Bettina was skating more rapidly than at 
first, and without her knowledge her depres- 
sion was fading. The cold air stung her 
cheeks, but her blood flowed warmly; this 
portion of the lake was smooth as glass. 
Finally a smile appeared at the corners of 
her lips. Perhaps she was taking herself 
and her own future too seriously, as this 
was one of the faults of her character. 
Moreover, doubtless she was spoiled. Never 
had she to contend against real difficulties 
such as many other girls face. Marguerite 
Arnot, for instance, friendless and often- 
times ill, for years had been forced to earn 
her own living. 

If at this instant Bettina could only have 
beheld herself with other eyes she would 
have appreciated her own good fortune 
more keenly. 

Her skating costume was of the color she 
most affected, a soft, deep-toned blue serge, 
neither fight nor dark blue, with a short 
skirt and coat. About her throat she was 
wearing a beaver fur and on her head a cap 
of beaver nearly the shade of her own hair, 
one of her mother’s Christmas gifts, and 
carrying a small muff. 


200 AT HALF MOON LAKE 


Her complexion, at times too pale, was 
now a lovely combination of white and rose. 
Tall and slender, Bettina was always excep- 
tionally graceful, but more conspicuous than 
any other characteristic was her air of high 
breeding. 

“Are you a part of the wind? Won’t you 
please pause and wait for a fellow mortal 
who has not your swift skill?” Bettina 
heard a voice behind her calling, and turning 
skated slowly back. 

“But I thought you were off for a walk, 
Mr. Hale; the cabin was nearly deserted 
when I escaped?” 

“Yes, I was, Miss Bettina, but our walk 
was over a half hour ago and I inquired of 
your mother what had become of you. I 
have been following you for the past fifteen 
minutes. You observe that I skate abomi- 
nably and yet I was determined to catch up.” 

Bettina extended her hand. 

“You are a bit out of practice; perhaps 
if you take my hand I can be of some 
assistance. It was kind of you to care to 
join me.” 

A moment they skated along in silence, 
David Hale gaining in prowess from the 
touch of the gloved fingers. 


AN ENCOUNTER 


201 


“ Does it occur to you, Miss Bettina, this 
is~ the first opportunity I have had to 
exchange a word with you alone?” 

Bettina laughed. 

“Yes, I know, but you only arrived a 
short time ago and we have been having a 
pretty strenuous existence at Tahawus cabin 
for these last two days. I hope you have 
not been bored by being forced to be a 
guest at a wedding, which was as unexpected 
to us as to you. I want to thank you for 
your presence of mind this morning. Mother 
and Mr. Drain would have been more seri- 
ously injured except for you.” 

“I was a dunce, Miss Bettina, not to 
have discovered sooner what was taking 
place almost beside me. I suppose I was 
too interested in the wedding ceremony. 
But in any case all the danger and therefore 
all the credit is due Allan Drain. I confess 
I am a little envious of his position as hero 
and my own as anything else. I would give 
a good deal to have you and your mother 
grateful to me. You seem a’together to 
have forgotten our friendship. Oh, I do 
not mean you are not friendly, but I believed 
we were more than ordinarily friendly dur- 


202 AT HALF MOON LAKE 


ing the months in France. I hoped when 
we met again that we might take things up 
where we left off on that enchanting after- 
noon in the Queen’s secret garden at Ver- 
sailles. Now I see I must begin again at 
the beginning, but I am a persistent person 
and am looking forward to your return to 
Washington. Then you will be meeting so 
many people and no doubt will be a great 
belle, so I am afraid my opportunities for 
seeing you there will be limited.” 

Bettina moved so slowly that the two 
skaters appeared to be poised like birds 
about to take wing for further flight. 

“If I am forced to make my debut in 
Washington next winter if you will be good 
to me I shall be more grateful than you 
realize. I know I shall be a dismal failure. 
Really I don’t mind for myself so much as 
for my mother; I am afraid she is going to 
be dreadfully disappointed in me, and she 
always has been in a fashion. It is hard 
when people love each other a great deal 
and yet have no congeniality of taste.” 

“Then why not follow your friend Peggy 
Webster’s example and so escape the society 
adventure altogether?” 


AN ENCOUNTER 


203 


Bettina shook her head. 

“ Thanks, I don’t like to quote tiresome 
old axioms, but one has heard of the frying 
pan and the fire. Besides, one cannot follow 
Peggy’s example all alone. By the way, 
did you and Marguerite Amot manage to 
have your walk together? I hope so. Isn’t 
Marguerite charming? I envy her exquisite 
manners. You know she is coming to spend 
next winter with us in Washington; mother 
has persuaded her. Sometimes I think it 
might be well if some witch or fairy should 
force Marguerite and me to change places. 
She could fill my place so much more grace- 
fully, however, than I could her’s.” 

“You could never change places in my 
estimation. 

Bettina laughed. 

“No, I never anticipated such an honor. 
But come let us go back to the cabin, the 
darkness is nearly upon us. Isn’t the 
evening exquisite? See the little half moon 
rising there above our lake! I am sorry, 
but I cannot stay out longer, I promised I 
would not. It has been nice to have this 
little talk with you.” 


CHAPTER XVII 


Closed In 


HE week following the end of the 



Christmas holidays, Mary Gilchrist 


said good-by to her Camp Fire 
group and returned home. 

She had made her confession to Mrs. 
Graham, to the Camp Fire guardian and to 
the girls themselves. If they were surprised 
or disappointed, the decision to leave 
Tahawus cabin was GilTs own. 

No one precisely understood the situa- 
tion. Save for Peggy Webster, Gill had 
appeared the frankest and most straight- 
forward of their number. The accident to 
the manuscript was unavoidable, her refusal 
to confess the accident, her evasion of the 
truth as little like Gill as any one could 
imagine. 

Nor could Gill explain even to herself her 
unexpected deceit and cowardice. She was 
more astonished, more disappointed in her 
own character than any one else. 


( 204 ) 


CLOSED IN 


205 


Her talk with her Camp Fire guardian 
upon this subject she felt she would always 
remember. 

“My dear, of course I am grieved and in 
a way angry. You have forced Mrs. Gra- 
ham, whom I love better than most persons, 
to bear a sense of guilt and a burden of 
responsibility that was your’s and not her 
own. I have seldom seen Betty more] 
worried and it has affected the pleasure of: 
her winter with me which I desired to be 
especially happy. Yet the fact that you ! 
have committed the very fault you believed 
most foreign to you is not so unusual as you 
consider it, Gill dear. Life has a fashion of 
tricking us in our preconceived notions of 
ourselves. She has done the same thing 
to me and it is one of her bitterest lessons. 
Of course one has only to try to see that she 
does not succeed again. I wish you did not 
feel you were forced to leave the Camp Fire 
because of your fault. If membership in 
the Camp Fire demanded perfection I am 
afraid our number would not be large. You 
know it only demands an idealTand the 
effort of getting up and going on after a 
mistake or a downfall which brings one 
nearer the ultimate goal.” 


206 AT HALF MOON LAKE 


Gill had been silent for a few moments 
afterwards, seated on the floor beside her 
Camp Fire guardian in her bed-room. 

“ Nevertheless, I think it would be best 
for me to return home,” she said finally, 
“ although the girls also have been kind 
enough to urge me to remain. Beside my 
own feeling that I have in a measure 
betrayed the trust of the Camp Fire, of 
late I have received several letters from my 
father telling me that he was lonely and 
needed me. I have been too long away, 
but some day perhaps I shall be able to 
return and once more be a member of the 
Sunrise Camp Fire. Until then I hope you 
will not forget me.” 

So early in the new year Gill vanished 
from the household at Half Moon Lake and 
a month later Mrs. Graham departed. 
Afterwards the winter closed in about 
Tahawus cabin. 

The thermometer fell to ten, then twenty, 
then thirty degrees below zero. Very rarely 
now did the snow ever fall, only the ice 
packed thicker and deeper, the limbs of the 
trees laden with winter’s burdens now and 
then breaking, fell stiffly to the earth. The 


CLOSED IN 


207 


wind rarely blew with any fierceness and 
the cold was extraordinarily still. 

Actually the household felt the coldness 
less than any one of them anticipated. 
Rarely a day passed by but the greater 
number of them were out walking or skat- 
ing or skiing. Frequently David Murray 
or one of the girls drove the sleigh to 
Saranac for provisions and mail. And as 
she grew stronger, Mrs. Burton was able to 
accompany them on their shorter excursions. 

Nevertheless, it was the long evenings at 
Half Moon Lake that the Sunrise Camp 
Fire ever hereafter was to recall as adding 
a peculiar value and interest to their winter 
in the Adirondacks. 

The darkness fell between half-past four 
and five o’clock, by six the final afterglow 
had departed from the crown of hills, and 
above them hung the stars or the pale 
winter moon. 

Inside Tahawus cabin at this hour there 
was added warmth and cheerfulness. More 
logs were piled on the open fires, David 
Murray heaped the furnace with a fresh 
supply of coal, lamps were lighted and one 
by one the girls, their daily tasks accom- 
plished, wandered into the big living-room. 


208 AT HALF MOON LAKE 


Elspeth had continued to live with them, 
utterly declining to return to the loneliness 
and lack of comfort in her brother’s bachelor 
establishment. Owing to her presence the 
daily program had been changed. 

Afternoon tea was no longer a feature of 
the day, but instead, as Elspeth expressed 
it, high tea was served at six o’clock. This 
was a custom among Scotch and English 
country people and admirably suited to the 
girls at present, since it afforded them long, 
uninterrupted evenings, when they were 
able to read, write letters, sew, or play 
games, or entertain themselves in a variety 
of fashions. 

But by and by, without a prearranged 
plan, one entertainment began to be appre- 
ciated beyond all others. From eight 
o’clock until her early bed-time Mrs. Burton 
read aloud, at first an occasional short story, 
then as this did not seem to tire her, one or 
two plays that were her especial favorites. 

There were several new plays of unusual 
quality that were among the New York 
winter successes. Mrs. Burton sent for 
these, hoping not to become altogether out 
of touch with the public taste. 


CLOSED IN 


209 


Occasionally the beauty of a few poetic 
lines or the dramatic value of a situation 
caused her to forget the character of her 
little audience. Then her voice and manner 
revealed the old enchanting quality which 
had made her famous. 

On these occasions Allan Drain, who 
trudged over every evening when it was 
possible, oftentimes spending the night in 
the smallest of the cabins which held no 
other occupants, used to sit with his head 
bent seeing and hearing nothing save the 
magic beauty of the voice able by a swift 
change of tone to call forth tears or laughter. 

Mrs. Burton had read his play and had 
not thought it altogether bad; had even 
made suggestions so that he was re-writing 
it for the third time. 

The Camp Fire girls were accustomed to 
their guardian’s gift and therefore accepted 
it in a more matter-of-fact fashion, although 
Bettina Graham and Alice Ashton were 
both aware that she was showing added 
power, and understood her impatience to 
return to her profession. 

One other person besides Allan Drain 
appeared to be completely under the spell 


14 


210 AT HALF MOON LAKE 


of Mrs. Burton’s art, but apparently she 
responded to no one else. Since her unex- 
pected arrival at Tahawus cabin, Juliet 
Temple had made no effort to make friends 
with any member of the Camp Fire, nor 
showed any interest in their attempts toward 
including her as one of their circle. 

She was courteous but plainly cared for 
no one save Mrs. Burton, whose every wish 
she seemed able to anticipate and fulfil. 
Devoted as they were to their guardian, the 
other girls had been entirely free from any 
spirit of hero worship, so that Juliet Tem- 
ple’s attitude became annoying. 

To Miss Patricia it was more than annoy- 
ing; her disfavor increased daily. Yet 
whatever story Juliet Temple had confided 
to the Camp Fire guardian must have 
aroused her sympathy. Mrs. Burton in- 
sisted Juliet was not to leave Tahawus 
cabin until she had secured surroundings in 
which she could be content. And pleased 
with her present environment apparently, 
Juliet Temple made no especial effort to 
discover any other abiding place, notwith- 
standing Miss Patricia’s open hostility. 

Moreover, there was no disputing the 


CLOSED IN 


211 


obvious fact that she was useful to Mrs. 
Burton, although the Camp Fire girls agreed 
with Miss Patricia in not particularly liking 
or trusting the latest member of their house- 
hold, and there was no thought of inviting 
her to become one of the Sunrise Camp 
Fire. So, perhaps for this reason, as well 
as her personal devotion, Mrs. Burton 
behaved toward the newcomer with especial 
kindness. 

Now and then sitting a little apart from 
the group and fiercely engaged with her 
knitting, Miss Patricia, after listening to the 
reading aloud for half an hour or more, 
would glance from Mrs. Burton to the girl 
who managed always to be nearer to her 
than any one else, and observing the expres- 
sion on the usually colorless and listless face, 
would rise abruptly and stalk out of the 
room. Occasionally Mrs. Burton would 
follow her, but never was Miss Patricia 
persuaded to return. 


CHAPTER XVIII 


Spring 

E ARLY spring had arrived in the 
Adirondack forests. Little pools of 
water lay in patches amid the snow 
where the sun’s rays shone with especial 
warmth; down the sides of the mountains 
one could hear the sounds of brooks released 
from the winter fastness. Thin cakes of 
ice still were floating on the surface of Half 
Moon Lake, yet in the open spaces of clear 
water one could see the reflection of the 
spruce trees which all winter had stood 
sentinel. 

Now and then a water fowl appeared and 
stopped to drink, and from deeper in the 
woods occasionally there was a bird call, 
poignant and sweet, and the barking of 
young foxes at night, the beavers, having 
come forth from their seclusion, were again 
at work on new dams to meet the spring 
freshets. 

On the veranda in front of Tahawus cabin 

( 212 ) 


SPRING 


213 


Sally Ashton in a golden brown sweater and 
tam-o-shanter was sweeping away light 
patches of snow. Standing in the open 
doorway Alice Ashton and Bettina Graham 
were talking to their Camp Fire guardian, 
who was walking rapidly up and down. 

“I don’t see why such a display of energy, 
Tante, unless you are trying to keep warm. 
Isn’t it a heavenly day?” 

Mrs. Burton nodded and laughed. 

“I am trying to reduce my weight, Prin- 
cess, after so indolent a winter. But it is 
wonderful to be alive on a day like this and 
to feel so extraordinarily well!” 

The Camp Fire guardian walked to the 
centre of the veranda and paused for a 
moment, looking out at the landscape. The 
sun appeared to be shining with a strange 
brightness as if it also was feeling the year’s 
new birth. The sky was radiantly blue. 

At this momentjthere was a faint noise 
of a pony’s hoofs striking against the stones 
in the road and the next the Camp Fire 
pony, hitched to a small wagon, appeared in 
a turn of the road about an eighth of a mile 
away. 

“I’ll race you to see who gets the mail 


214 AT HALF MOON LAKE 


first,” Mrs. Burton called, and slipped off 
the porch, running swiftly and lightly over 
the damp earth, the three girls in pursuit. 

“Here, David Murray, please give the 
letters to me, Fve won ,” she demanded, 
slightly out of breath and holding up her 
hands for the bag of mail, David having 
drawn rein to watch the contest. 

“Yes, but of all the unfair races, this is 
the climax!” Alice protested, “seeing that 
you got away before the rest of us knew 
what you intended.” 

“Perhaps, Alice, but considering my age 
and infirmities, I think I should have been 
allowed a slight advantage.” 

“Your age and infirmities are not par- 
ticularly apparent at this instant, Polly,” 
Miss Patricia announced drily from her seat 
in the wagon where she and Vera Lagerloff 
were enthroned surrounded by parcels, 
“but your lack of dignity undoubtedly is. 
Do go to your room and do something to 
your hair; this March wind has blown you 
to pieces.” 

If Miss Patricia’s tone was severe, her 
satisfaction was none the less visible. More- 
over, at this same instant her own strange, 


SPRING 


215 


little gray felt hat, which she affected 
beyond all others, perhaps under the impres- 
sion that it was suited to her present 
informal mode of life, had been tipped to 
one side, giving her the eccentric appear- 
ance to which her companions were accus- 
tomed. 

“Very well, Aunt Patricia, I am ‘ yours 
obediently, ’ as the old-fashioned letter 
writers advise. Anyhow, I believe that is 
the form of signature you like best from me.” 

Mrs. Burton, slipping her arms through 
Bettina Graham’s and Alice’s, started back 
toward the cabin, Sally climbing into the 
wagon beside David Murray, since she 
objected to all unnecessary exertion. 

“I wonder had I been so autocratic as a 
Camp Fire guardian as Aunt Patricia has 
been with me if I should have met with 
equal success?” Mrs. Burton inquired 
laughingly. 

Alice Ashton shook her head. 

“Oh, I don’t know, perhaps so. You 
see, I have an idea that you are fairly apt 
to do what you wish in important matters, 
Tante, even if you do concede the smaller 
ones.” 


216 AT HALF MOON LAKE 


Mrs. Burton wrinkled her forehead. 

“Do you mean my keeping Juliet Temple 
here with us this winter when neither you 
girls nor Aunt Patricia like her? There 
have been reasons I have not been able to 
explain; besides, Juliet has been very kind 
and useful to me.” 

Alice Ashton shrugged her shoulders. 

“No, I was not thinking of Juliet Temple 
or any particular case, but she will serve as 
an example if you like.” Alice appeared 
entirely undisturbed, although her Camp 
Fire guardian flushed and looked wounded. 
Alice was not sensitive and had a fashion of 
saying what seemed to her the truth with- 
out any especial regard for consequences. 

“Besides, we should all have been glad 
to have done for you whatever Juliet Temple 
has done,” Bettina added. 

“But, my dear girls, you were busy with 
your own work and studies and I did not 
feel I had the right to interrupt you nor to 
allow Aunt Patricia to exhaust herself 
utterly.” 

The subject was not an altogether happy 
one, so there was no further reference to it. 
A little later Mrs. Burton in the hall of the 
cabin was distributing the morning mail. 


SPRING 


217 


Five minutes after she vanished to her 
own bed-room carrying half a dozen letters. 

The one from her husband she read 
immediately, and then without glancing at 
the others began walking up and down her 
room, her buoyancy of a short time before 
departed. 

By and by she came back to a table where 
she had thrown the other letters, and pick- 
ing them up studied the outside of the 
envelopes with an abstracted air, as if her 
mind were not intent upon her occupation. 
Then she tore open a second letter, reading 
it carelessly at first and afterwards with 
closer attention. 

She began walking a second time, with a 
change of manner and as if she were think- 
ing deeply. Her straight brows became a 
fairly level line, her blue eyes perceptibly 
darkened, her lips closed more firmly than 
usual. 

At noon there was a knock at her door 
and Juliet Temple entered. 

“Please say that I am not coming in to 
lunch, Juliet, and bring me something to 
eat here. If possible, as I expect to be 
busy, I'd rather not be disturbed this after- 
noon." 


218 AT HALF MOON LAKE 


Mrs. Burton had but scant hope of Miss 
Patricia’s observing her wish and yet the 
entire afternoon passed and no one came 
near her. 

Nevertheless, she did not appear to be 
seriously occupied during the earlier part of 
the afternoon. Instead she sat for an hour 
before her fire with her hands tightly clasped. 
Afterwards, drawing her writing table toward 
her, she wrote a short note which she placed 
in an envelope and addressed to her hus- 
band. The second note was longer and 
oddly enough addressed to Miss Patricia 
Lord, who at present moment was not 
many yards away. But this letter Mrs. 
Burton placed inside her bureau drawer, 
and then fell to packing a small suitcase 
which she afterwards hid away in a closet. 

She went in to supper and sat talking an 
hour or more in the living-room with the 
Camp Fire girls, but asked to be excused 
early in the evening and again retired to her 
own bed-room. She was undressing to put 
on a tea-gown when the door opened and in 
walked Miss Patricia looking uncommonly 
severe. 

“I came in to inquire if you are ill, Polly, 


SPRING 


219 


or if there is any particular reason why you 
have avoided our society all day? Really 
you are one of the most unreasonable people 
in the world !” 

An instant Mrs. Burton hesitated, her 
expression a little wistful, with almost a 
childish appeal. Then conscious of Miss 
Patricia’s unrelenting air, and knowing her 
inflexible will, she shook her head. 

“No, Aunt Patricia, I am not in the least 
ill, in fact I rarely have felt better. But I 
have had some business I wished to attend 
to this afternoon and found it more con- 
venient to be alone.” 

Afterwards, when Miss Patricia, having 
responded coldly to her good-night, had 
departed, Mrs. Burton laughed and frowned. 

“I am planning to behave like a child. 
Actually I don’t believe one of my Camp 
Fire girls would be so absurd, but fortu- 
nately for me I have never pretended to be 
a model. The truth is I simply have not 
the strength of character to oppose Aunt 
Patricia until I am more definite in my 
plans. But how I shall ever escape to New 
York City to-morrow without being found 
out is beyond my knowledge at present. I 


220 AT HALF MOON LAKE 


simply must hope for some unexpected good 
fortune.” 

The next morning Mrs. Burton, suddenly 
having concluded that she had best have 
Juliet Temple accompany her upon her 
unexpected journey, explaining that she 
wished to drive to Saranac, she and Juliet, 
Sally Ashton and David Murray, started 
forth, the small suitcase concealed beneath 
the lap robe. 

In choosing Sally Ashton for a measure 
of confidence, Mrs. Burton appreciated that 
one could always rely upon Sally’s perfectly 
matter-of-fact point of view and her openly 
expressed conviction that every human being 
possessed a right to their own choice of life. 

“ Sally, I want you to do me a great 
favor,” Mrs. Burton explained when they 
were almost in sight of the town. “When 
you return to the cabin will you look in my 
bureau drawer, where you will find a letter 
addressed to Aunt Patricia? Will you give 
it to her at once? No, I am not going back 
with you, I hope to be at home again by 
day after to-morrow. I am on my way to 
New York for a few days. I don’t know 
whether Aunt Patricia will reveal the fact 


SPRING 


221 


to you and it may be unnecessary, but I 
yesterday received a letter from an old 
friend asking me to talk over with him the 
possibility of my appearing in a new play 
in the early autumn. I am extremely well 
and anxious to return to my work as you 
girls know. Only, as I appreciate that 
Aunt Patricia will not consent I wish to be 
more sure myself before I discuss the situa- 
tion with her. I presume I am behaving 
very badly, Sally dear, and have the grace 
to be ashamed of myself . 77 

In response Sally dimpled and nodded. 

“Yes, I suppose you are, nevertheless I 
think you are sensible. After an argument 
with Aunt Patricia you would have little 
strength left to discuss business affairs in 
New York, and besides you probably would 
have to run away in the end in any case. 
PH present your letter, although I do think 
you are asking a good deal of me / 7 

“Sally, you are a joy forever ! 77 the Camp 
Fire guardian returned. 

Two days later after dusk, when the girls 
and Miss Patricia had finished supper and 
were in the living-room, an automobile drew 
up before Tahawus cabin. Five minutes 


222 AT HALF MOON LAKE 


after, Mrs. Burton stood in the center of 
the circle of girls, who were helping her 
remove her wraps. 

Save for a curt nod of her head, Miss 
Patricia Lord gave no further sign of being 
aware of her presence. 

A little later, as Mrs. Burton approached 
her, she drew back. 

“ Please tell us at once what decision you 
have reached, Polly. Do you intend to 
disregard your responsibility as a Camp 
Fire guardian and the wishes of your family 
and friends and return to the stage when 
your health as well as your age make it 
impossible?” 

Mrs. Burton shook her head. 

“Really, Aunt Patricia, that is an unkind 
fashion of presenting the situation and I 
hope the girls will not agree with you. I 
have no idea of giving up my position as 
guardian so long as the Sunrise Camp Fire 
girls do not desire some one else. In a 
few weeks they will be leaving Tahawus 
cabin and returning home and we have no 
right to be selfish enough to ask them to 
remain longer. As for me, I am entirely 
well again, thanks to you. I saw a special- 


SPRING 


223 


ist in New York and he agrees with the 
doctor here that I need have no further 
anxiety about myself. And I have had a 
splendid offer which has made me very 
happy. Really, Aunt Patricia, I am not 
yet too old, but as I am becoming so, all 
the more reason why I should return to the 
stage immediately. I have not wished to 
worry you, but the day before I left for New 
York I received a very discouraging letter 
from my husband telling me that some 
stock in which we had invested more heavily 
than we should had ceased to be of value. 
So you must understand the necessity for 
me to return to work as well as the pleasure. 
I know, dear, that you would help us of 
course, but it is not necessary and already 
we have accepted too much from you. I 
wrote Richard mentioning what I wished to 
do, told him not to worry over the tiresome 
stock, and he telegraphed his consent when 
I was in New York. You’ll come and live 
with us; I’m sure you will enjoy the winter. 
I have been idling too long.” 

There was a silence in the room waiting for 
Miss Patricia to reply. Finally she arose. 

“As you have arrived at your decision 


224 AT HALF MOON LAKE 


without consulting me and knowing it to 
be against my wish and judgment, Polly, 
there is nothing for me to say. Only bear 
in mind that our friendship is ended and I 
shall never forgive you.” 

Miss Patricia stalked out of the room. 

Bettina Graham put her arm about Mrs. 
Burton, who was slighter and small, and 
drew her back inside the circle. 

“ Don’t try to argue the question with 
Aunt Patricia any more to-night, dear, you 
are far too tired. ” 

“Perhaps next winter when you are in 
New York some of us may also spend the 
winter there; it is what I am hoping and 
planning for a part of the year, as I wish 
to take a special course at Columbia. I am 
trying to induce father and mother to give 
their consent,” Alice Ashton remarked. 

“No such good fortune for me!” Bettina 
ejaculated. 

“But perhaps it is as well that Tante 
be separated from a few of us, if she is to 
have time and strength for her own career.” 
Bettina made a graceful gesture. 

“Here is wishing you greater fame and 
fortune than ever before.” 



























































































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